The Dragon's Prey
by Lemur76
Summary: Having graduated early, Hermione takes a job as the DADA professor at Hogwarts. She didn't anticipate a roomful of young Slytherins refusing to learn from her. And she certainly didn't anticipate who stands up for her in front of all of them!
1. Chapter 1

Her clipped, crisp footsteps echoed through the dungeon corridors. With nothing to absorb the sound, she knew that she would be heard all over the lowest floors of the castle. But, it wasn't like she would be caught. She was a professor now, not a student, and she had every right to be wandering the corridors at midnight, if she chose to do so. Filch was no longer a threat, just a nuisance.  
  
Sliding her hands into the pockets of her robes, she let her dark brown hair fall forward, covering her face. She was thinking about tomorrow, when she would get up in front of a class of seventh years for the first time. Not that she didn't think she could do it, it just felt strange since she should have been sitting with them, not teaching them.  
  
Dumbledore had pushed her to finish her coursework early. They were in desperate need of a DADA teacher that they could trust. One that would stay for longer than three terms. Harry and Ron had encouraged the idea, knowing that they would get away with a lot more in those classes if their best friend was teaching them.  
  
The light was dim at this time at night, most of the torches not being lit. Only every other one flamed brightly, leaving just enough light to see shadows and silhouettes, not details. She turned a corner and stopped short. She hadn't expected to see anyone this time of night, and certainly not a student. Certainly not Malfoy.  
  
"What are you doing down here, Mudblood?" A catch in his voice betrayed his wariness.  
  
"My name is Granger, Professor Granger, to you, Mr. Malfoy," replied Hermione. She pulled herself up and looked him straight in the eye.  
  
His only response was his usual sneer.  
  
"And the real question," she continued, "is what are you doing down here?"  
  
"As if I would tell you," he stated, his eyes travelling up and down her form in contempt.  
  
"Fine. Ten points from Slytherin for being out of your common room after hours." She managed to say this with only a slight quaver to her voice.  
  
Silence was the only thing that followed this announcement. He took a step towards her, and she suddenly realized how much bigger he was than her. She tilted her head back to keep eye contact, but her show of bravery slipped when she took a little step backward.  
  
"Hermione, Hermione." His voice was smooth and silky. "There will be no points deducted from any House." He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her left ear. His hand slid down her neck, her shoulder, to fall to its place by his side. Unbidden, she took another step back, only to find that she had reached the stone wall.  
  
Draco took another step towards her, until he towered over her. Hermione took a quick breath before saying, "Draco, get away from me."  
  
A grin slid slowly across his face. In the flickering light of the torches, Hermione saw a glint in his grey eyes. "I don't think so," he said simply.  
  
"I. I'm a professor, Draco. You have to listen to me." Her voice faltered, though, betraying her sudden fear. She had never been so aware of his maleness before. He had always been Malfoy, the bouncing ferret. But, suddenly, she realized that this was no ferret. This was a young man in front of her. One who was taller than her, stronger than her and one who seemed extremely virile. She tried to clear her mind of those thoughts. For goodness' sakes, this was Malfoy!  
  
But, no, she couldn't help noticing the way his eyes roamed her figure, the way his six o'clock shadow was visible, or the way the corded muscles in his neck moved as he swallowed. She could sense the way his muscles rippled under his thin white dress shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. She gulped. She actually gulped!  
  
"Where are your robes?" She blurted the question out before she could stop herself.  
  
"That's not really your business either," he said simply. He didn't seem angry anymore. In fact, he seemed a little amused that he had gained the upper hand.  
  
They stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like hours, but could only have been a minute. Hermione, clearly flustered, snapped, "Well, get back to your common room. I have to go." Attempting to scoot around him, she ducked her head under his arm, but he stopped her.  
  
"Oh, no you don't," he said. He held her face in his hands, and without thinking about anything except what he was about to enjoy, he lowered his lips down to hers.  
  
Surprised, Hermione could not move. She could not even think. And, then she realized that his lips were soft and his tongue was insistent. She opened her mouth to protest and he slipped his tongue inside. Just enough to brush it against her own. Just enough to send a sliver of hot, intense liquid straight to her most private places. Without consciously deciding, she moved her arms to clasp him around his neck.  
  
The kiss deepened, and his warm mouth felt moist and inviting as she tentatively began her own exploration. His hands slid down her shoulders, her back, to her waist. Without thinking, she pressed her body to him. It felt warm and solid against her own, and she gradually relaxed into him and his kisses. She felt him, hard against her belly, and realized that he wasn't immune to her, either.  
  
Suddenly, she wrenched herself from his grasp. Their harsh breathing was the only thing echoing through the corridors now. They gazed at each other, shocked at their reactions to each other. Hermione unconsciously lifted her fingers to her lips. Draco Malfoy had kissed her. Kissed her with the same lips that had so often formed the word Mudblood. What was she thinking, letting him do that to her?  
  
She forced her legs to move, to back away from him, slowly at first and then breaking into an outright run. But she couldn't get the image of him standing there out of her mind. Because he had looked as stunned as she had felt, his silky blond hair a bit mussed from where she had slid her fingers through it.  
  
Reaching her chambers, she whispered the password to an irate milkmaid who had to be woken up. She rushed through the doorway, slamming the door behind her, and leaned against it. Once again, her fingers found her lips. She felt as if his touch was burnt there, she could feel it so vividly. Closing her eyes, she groaned. Why, oh, why had she just let that happen? And, now, on top of worrying about facing a bunch of students her own age tomorrow, she could worry about facing a young man who had just completely aroused her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione smoothed down her new navy blue robes and ran a hand through her smoothed out hair. On an impulse that morning, she had used a hair potion to tame it down. It fell soft and straight to the middle of her back. She had even applied a touch of mascara and a bit of lipstick. She refused to think that she did any of this to impress the seventh years, especially not Malfoy.  
  
Looking around the classroom, she saw that a third year had left a book behind and that two quills were on the floor. She slowly walked over and leaned down to pick them up. A scuffle of feet sounded at the door, and her head shot up to see who was arriving first.  
  
A pair of grey eyes met her gaze and a smirk appeared on his pale face.  
  
"Granger." He nodded his head in greeting, the smirk still plastered across his countenance. He walked straight up to the seat right in front of her desk and tossed his books onto it. She trembled slightly as she made her way back up to the front of the classroom with the book and the quills in her hands.  
  
She placed the items on top of her desk before looking at her student. Shaking her head slightly, she asked, "Why are you sitting there, Malfoy? And, why are you here so early?"  
  
He slid onto the seat before answering. "Why, Professor, this is the best seat in the classroom. I just wanted to make sure that I got it. I don't want to miss anything that my new professor could teach me."  
  
The mocking tone in his voice almost set her temper off, but she managed to control it until a few other students wandered into the room. She became distracted and completely forgot the whole issue with Malfoy when she realized that they were all Slytherins. Panicking, she shuffled through the papers on her desk to find the class list. One glance told her what she wanted to know.  
  
"Yup, it's you and all of the Slytherins in one classroom, alone," Malfoy confirmed in a low voice. He picked up his quill and twirled it in his hands. "What a way to start your day, huh, Professor?"  
  
Hermione's head jerked up, and a look of compassion actually flitted across Malfoy's face. He lowered his head and then turned to talk to Goyle who had sat down directly behind him. The bell sounded, and gradually, everyone stopped talking and stared at their new professor, matching sullen looks on all of their faces.  
  
Hermione pulled herself together, both mentally and physically, and began to call roll. Her voice only cracked once, and that was on Malfoy's name, but she didn't let it deter her.  
  
"All right, then," she continued, "as you all know, this is your last and final year in Defense against the Dark Arts. During these last months, we will discuss the role of the dark arts in our modern day world and what the latest developments in curses, hexes and the sort are. We will also discuss what Dark Wizards we know currently exist, and what their prominent powers are." No reaction came from any of her students, and so she plunged on, assuming that they had heard her.  
  
"We will discuss theories of what next will happen in the war against the Dark Side, and what measures are being taken to prevent terror attacks in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds." Still, no reaction. "All right. In addition to your books, I would like every single one of you to take out a subscription to the Daily Prophet, if you do not already have one. Please begin to bring these to class every day, for we will start to discuss the current events in the Wizarding world. Now, please take out your books and turn to Chapter One."  
  
A single book slammed down onto a single desk. No one else moved. Hermione just stood there, waiting for her students to do as she asked.  
  
"Why should we listen to a filthy little Muggle-born like you?" piped up a blond-haired girl who Hermione had hated since her first year at Hogwarts. It was Pansy Parkinson.  
  
Ignoring her, Hermione took Modern Dark Wizards from her own desk, and opened it to Chapter One. She began to read the first paragraph, knowing that the only person who had done as she asked was Malfoy. At the end of the first page, she asked a question, "Why is Grindelwald considered the second most prominent dark wizard of the twentieth century?"  
  
A few of the girls were whispering behind each other's hands. Some of the boys had started doodling on pieces of parchment. Crabbe's chin was resting on his fisted hands, and he was staring at Blaise Zabini. No one was paying a bit of attention to her.  
  
She slammed the book closed, startling the entire class. "Fine." Her voice rose just a little and managed to get what she had been seeking for the past fifteen minutes, everyone's attention. "If you don't want to be here, then leave. There's the door." She pointed to the place that they had entered through just moments before.  
  
With an indelicate snort, Pansy stood, picked up her books and left the room with her gang of Slytherin girls following in her wake. Crabbe and Goyle raised their eyebrows at each other, shrugged and followed suit. The classroom quickly emptied out until the only two people left were Malfoy and herself.  
  
Giving up all pretense, she flopped into her own chair and buried her face in her hands. A moment passed and she realized that Draco really hadn't moved. In fact, his book was still open to the second page. Pushing her hair away from her face, Hermione stared at him. "Why are you still here, Draco?"  
  
Instead of answering her question, he answered the one that she had asked moments before. "Grindelwald is considered the second most dangerous wizard, instead of the first, because he was mortal. Voldemort, as far as we know, is immortal, which makes him ten times harder to defeat."  
  
Hermione just stared stupidly at him. "That's right." Sighing, she sat upright and straightened the books on her desk. "You can go, you know. There really isn't a point in continuing this lesson." A bitter sarcasm crept into her voice. "You probably know more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know anyway."  
  
Draco didn't dispute her statement. He closed up his books and walked up to her desk. She looked up at him from her sitting position, and he smiled down at her. He actually smiled, not his usual sneer, but a genuine, honest to goodness sincere smile. And the effect was amazing. He almost looked. well, attractive.  
  
He leaned down, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her again. But, he didn't. Instead he playfully tugged her hair and said, "You look different today. Pretty, actually."  
  
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She was speechless. He chucked her gently under the chin and then strode out of the classroom, whistling.  
  
Later that night, Harry and Ron followed Hermione back to her own apartments in the castle. As a teacher, she sat up at the Head Table during all meals, and she had watched Harry and Ron enviously, They had obviously been enjoying themselves. She had seen more than one peanut fly across the table at where Dean and Seamus had been sitting. One of them had even hit an unsuspecting first-year right between the eyes.  
  
She now listened to them complain about the amount of homework Snape had given them, and how hard he had been on the Griffyndors in class earlier that day.  
"How did you stand one-on-one sessions with him, Hermione?" asked Ron, shaking his head. "I'm surprised that you didn't kill each other."  
  
Hermione shrugged, and then gave the password to the milkmaid. The trio entered her apartment, and she heard Harry say, "Whoa!" under his breath. She smiled a little at their reactions.  
  
"This is brilliant!" cried Ron, staring around at the circular room in amazement. An Aubusson carpet lay on the floor, a couple of armchairs were gathered around a fireplace, and there were portraits of ancient witches and wizards on the walls. He walked through the doorway into her bedroom, and said, "No fair!"  
  
Harry rushed to see what he was talking about, and Hermione followed them as they both jumped onto her enormous bed. They laid back, putting their hands behind their heads.  
  
"How did a five foot, three inch girl get a bed this big, and I'm still in one of those cramped little things that they give us in first year?" Ron demanded to know. Glancing at his six foot two inch frame, Hermione had to giggle.  
  
"Well, Ron, if you had worked a little harder, you would have been made prefect. Things get upgraded, then," she replied, "Move over." She shoved Ron over to the side, and Harry, always a gentleman, sat up and moved on his own.  
  
"How did your first day with the Slytherins go?" Harry asked with a look of concern.  
  
"It was. interesting," she said.  
  
"Did Malfoy give you any problems?" asked Ron, suddenly sitting up.  
  
"No, no," she assured him. "Actually, the thing that made it so interesting was that Malfoy was the only one who didn't give me any problems."  
  
"What?" her friends cried in amazement.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, you see what I mean. It was interesting."  
  
"He acted like he actually wanted to be there. Like he actually wanted to learn something," explained Hermione. "Nobody else was listening to me, and I finally told them that if they didn't want to be there, then to leave. He was the only one who stayed."  
  
"Are you serious?" Ron asked incredulously. "Malfoy? We're talking about Draco Malfoy here? The same Draco that we all know and love?"  
  
Once again, she nodded. "Yes. And, he acted differently around me. Like, he almost respected me."  
  
"What did he do after everyone left?" prodded Harry.  
  
"Well, first he answered the question that I had asked the class. Then, I told him that there really was no need for him to stay, seeing that he probably knew more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know."  
  
"Did he deny it?" Ron asked excitedly.  
  
"No, actually." Hermione leaned back on the bed herself.  
  
"Well, then, what happened?" Harry ignored the angry look on Ron's face.  
  
Hermione blushed slightly and avoided both boys' eyes. "He. he complimented me."  
  
"What?" cried Ron.  
  
"He. he complimented me," she stuttered. "Told me that I looked pretty today."  
  
Both boys' leaned back and looked her over.  
  
"You do look rather nice today," Ron commented. Harry nodded in agreement. "You did that thing with your hair again. But, why would he do that?"  
  
"I have no idea." Once again, she avoided direct eye contact.  
  
Harry shot her a look saying that he clearly did not believe her. Ron just shook his head.  
  
Hermione, trying to get out of the uncomfortable situation, shot up out of the bed, and announced, "You two should probably start your homework. I've got loads to prepare for the second-years tomorrow, too." She started walking towards the door. The boys didn't follow her right away, just exchanged a glance of concern between themselves.  
  
"You find out," muttered Ron under his breath. Harry nodded in agreement, and they went into the common room to do their homework.  
  
Down in the Slytherin common room, Draco was having a blazing row with Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Why are you so concerned about a creepy little Griffyndor, anyway, Malfoy?" she shouted at him.  
  
"She's not a Griffyndor anymore, Pansy, and she's our teacher. If you don't start showing her a modicum of respect in class, I am going to start taking points off our House," Draco bellowed. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared down at his adversary.  
  
But Pansy had dealt with Draco for the past six years, and he couldn't scare her off. Hands on hips, she screeched, "She's just a brainy little show-off. It's not like she can teach us anything about the Dark Side, and what's happening out there. Half of us know tons of inside information." She gave Draco a meaningful look. "You know, ever since your father died, you've been acting completely differently. What is wrong with you?"  
  
Draco's lips thinned into a line. "Leave my father out of this," he said evenly.  
A silence descended upon the entire room, and many heads turned towards the two seventh-years. Many of the younger students were a little afraid of the seventh-years, but didn't curiousity kill the cat?  
  
A smugness came over Pansy. "You know, Draco, if I didn't know any better, I would almost say that you seem to like Hermione Granger the Mudblood."  
  
Draco blinked, and then replied, "I never quite realized how ignorant you were before this moment, Pansy Parkinson. Or, maybe, even a little jealous of Miss Granger."  
  
Pansy huffed and stamped the floor childishly. She scowled once more at Malfoy, and then swept out of the room towards the girls' dormitory. With one last look at their audience, Draco stormed off to his own room.  
  
Slamming the door shut behind him, he fell face-forward onto the newly made bed. He grabbed his pillow, and shoved it underneath his head before turning it towards the window. The night shadows had begun to creep into the room, and he felt desolate and despondent. He didn't need Pansy's reminder to know that he was alone in this world now. Though, their fight had helped him to vent some of his frustration.  
  
He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. Since his father's death, he hadn't really seen eye to eye with most of his friends. In fact, he realized that he hadn't really seen anything until after his father's death. Like, what Voldemort really was. The man really was just a murderer, as Potter had often said. Though, Draco didn't like to think that he and Potter actually agreed on something. He had not mentioned any of his new musings to anyone, not even Crabbe and Goyle. After all, their parents hadn't died in a meaningless attack.  
  
The Death Eaters had all planned a bit of sport one weekend early in the summer. A few assaults on some muggle-born wizards and their extended muggle family. Apparently, the muggles had been tipped off, and a plan to catch some of Voldemort's followers was made. Voldemort had known that it was a set-up, yet he had sent Lucius Malfoy to do his bidding anyway. Lucius had never had a chance. He was captured almost immediately, and when he struggled, an auror had inflicted him with the Killing Curse.  
  
Voldemort had immediately flocked to the Malfoy manor. He had ransacked the entire house, taking things that he felt should be his own. He took most of the dark artifacts that were hidden in a chamber underneath the drawing room floor and emptied the house vault of galleons and family jewels.  
  
Aurors and ministry wizards had apparated outside the family home moments after Voldemort arrived. His mother was lying dead in the middle of the drawing room floor, and Draco himself had hidden in a secret passage outside on the grounds of the estate. Voldemort had found him and had been chasing him through the trees when it happened.  
  
"Ahh, the last Malfoy," the Dark Lord had sneered. Pointing his wand at Draco, he had shouted, "Avada."  
  
A lone figure had thrown himself in front of the wand and had shouted a shield charm at the same time. The Killing Curse had bounced off the shield, and ricocheted into some trees. Voldemort, realizing he would soon be outnumbered, disapparated quickly. The ministry wizard, Draco realized, just happened to be a former Hogwarts student. A Hufflepuff who was muggle- born whose name was David Flannery. One whom Draco had taunted several times when they had both been younger. The wizard had been taken to St. Mungo's with several serious injuries.  
  
Draco had often wondered why the man had done such a foolish thing, but David told him later that he had just been doing his job. And if he had not, Draco would surely be as dead as his mother and father.  
  
Draco shuddered and brought himself back to the present. The Hogwarts students knew none of the details of this particular incident. Merely that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died in an attack. No mention of which side they had been on when it had happened.  
  
On that day, Draco's staunch support of the Dark Lord had shifted. A numbness had settled over his entire body and soul. As he watched the earth cover up his parents, he realized that all of his knowledge of the Dark Side could be put to use. But he didn't want to create suspicion so he not only withdrew from his friends but also kept his distance from his enemies. Actually, his enemies didn't really seem quite so bad anymore. He could even relate to Potter, with both of them now being orphans, both having lost their parents to Voldemort.  
  
He was hoping that with information and ideas flowing in the DADA classes, he could come up with a way to help out Dumbledore in the war against Voldemort. Thank goodness his father had thought it best to wait until he was out of Hogwarts to be officially welcomed into the fold. He had never had a mark burned into his arm, and for that he was immensely grateful.  
  
He knew that Granger was suspicious of him, too. As much as he detested asking for her help, he knew that she would have some clever ideas. Even Potter and Weasley pulled decent marks in most of their subjects. Open discussion in some of their other classes had revealed that the trio often came up with brilliant ideas and plans. And, being Gryffindors, they actually put them into motion. If Granger encouraged open discussion in the Slytherin DADA classes, he hoped that information would spill without the Dark supporters realizing it. And plans could be set into motion to stop the Dark Lord's work.  
  
His thoughts turned to their kiss the other day. He had no idea why he had decided to kiss her when he did. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. What really shocked him was that he had enjoyed it. By her reaction, he rather thought she enjoyed it as well.  
  
And, he had not been lying when he told her his reason for getting to DADA early. He really did want to learn what she had to teach. It would fill in the gaps that he did not know about the Dark Side. It would make the puzzle pieces connect, and he would understand fully what was going on in the war that existed outside of Hogwarts. While he was sitting in the best seat of the class, he might as well enjoy the view.  
  
He had liked the way her hair had fallen across her shoulders. The way her eyes flashed when she was in a temper made him want to tease her more than usual. Her new robes were a bit more fashionable than the school robes and showed her figure to advantage. Hermione Granger had changed over the summer, or maybe Draco had. 


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Hermione was pacing her classroom, waiting for the Slytherins to arrive again. She had not seen Draco in the past two days, and she was relieved. She had not wanted to be in the same room with him alone again. A minute before the bell was due to ring, the students ambled into the room in twos and threes. They all headed back to the seats that they had picked during their last class. To her surprise, the class was full by the time the bell rang. No, she was still missing Malfoy.  
  
He strolled through the doorway just as it stopped ringing, walked up to the front desk once again, and slid into the seat. He nodded in greeting to Hermione, and opened his book. The others followed suit.  
  
Slightly disconcerted, Hermione picked up the lesson where she had left off. More students paid attention this time, and a few were even civil to her, answering questions and supplying great feedback. In addition, most of them had remembered their Daily Prophet. Crabbe, who had forgotten his, had raised his hand and explained that his subscription order had not begun yet. He assured her that he would have his paper by next class.  
  
The only minor trouble occurred when Pansy Parkinson muttered, "Mudblood" under her breath loud enough for her group of friends to hear. The lot of them began giggling and completely disrupted the debate between Blaise and Draco.  
  
Draco had stopped in mid-sentence, and glared at the girl. "Parkinson! Ten points. You can thank yourself later when we don't win the House Cup."  
  
Pansy had muttered something about Quidditch seekers who still couldn't catch the snitch being the cause of losing so many years in a row, but Malfoy had simply ignored that comment. Hermione just stood there and allowed the altercation to finish on its own. She could hardly believe it when the bell rang. The time had passed quickly, and work had actually been completed. She was very pleased.  
  
As the Slytherins made their way out of the classroom, Hermione laid aside the Daily Prophet she had been holding. "Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco had been at the end of the line, since his desk was in the front of the room. He halted and looked up at her. "Yes, Professor?"  
  
Hermione screwed up her face and spit out the words that she was thinking. "Thank you."  
  
The familiar cocky grin flashed and he tilted his head to one side. "Any time." Then, he strolled out the door once again.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Hermione began to prepare for the fourth years who were now wandering into the room.  
  
The first weeks of the school year passed quickly, and Hermione settled into a routine by the middle of October. She still talked to Harry and Ron a lot, but the trio spent less time in the public's eye. She, Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagell had all had a discussion in the beginning of the year about their friendship. It was made clear to the two boys that if a young female teacher was seen too much with two male students, assumptions would be made, even though the three of them had been friends since first year. Also, it would appear that Hermione had favorites. Which was far from the truth, according to Ron.  
  
"Bloody hell," cried Ron one evening when he and Harry were studying together in the library. "You'd think Hermione would give us a break because we're her friends. I feel like she marks us harder than the Slytherins."  
  
"You heard what McGonagell said," replied Harry. "If she marks any of the seventh-years differently because of prejudice, you and I will have to pay the consequences. Defense Against the Dark Arts one-on-one sessions with Snape." Harry shuddered at the thought. "She's just doing her job."  
  
"I guess so." Ron didn't seem convinced. "I just wonder if she's getting back at you and me for all the work we tricked her into doing for us during fifth year."  
  
Harry smirked. "That was quite nicely done, wasn't it?" He was silent a moment, staring off into space. All of a sudden, Harry poked Ron. "Check that out. Malfoy. He's in the library again. I've never seen him here as often as I have this year."  
  
Ron gazed over at the table in the corner where Malfoy sat, who seemed immersed in a Daily Prophet. "What do you think he's doing? Reading the comics?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Don't you think it's strange, though, that Crabbe and Goyle are never around him anymore? And, he rarely makes any more snide remarks about muggle-borns? I haven't heard him whining my name in the halls either this year." He turned back to Ron. "What gives?"  
  
"I don't know," Ron responded. "He's almost being nice to everyone. Keeping to himself, but actually being civil. I watched him open a door for Lavender and Parvati the other day."  
  
"He can't stand Lavender and Parvati. I once heard him tell Goyle that they gossiped more than Pansy Parkinson does."  
  
"I can't either, for that matter," said Ron. He turned a page in his DADA book, looking for information to back up an answer to an essay question. "Hey, have you answered number four yet? I can't find a third dark wizard and his prominent powers who lived during the fifteenth century."  
  
"Check on page forty-two." The boys looked up to see Hermione hovering over them. "Do you mind if I sit down?"  
  
"Sure," they replied. Harry stood up and pulled back a chair for her. Ron lifted some of the books out of her hands and set them down on the table.  
  
Harry was about to sit back down when he noticed Malfoy. Draco was staring at Hermione over the edge of his paper. He saw Harry looking at him and buried himself again. Harry, believing that he must have imagined the intense look in his eyes, ignored him.  
  
"I needed some books in the restricted section for next week's seventh-year classes," Hermione explained. "There's no need for me to take them out, so I might as well do the work here. Plus, I'm getting tired of being stuck in my rooms every night alone."  
  
"We come and visit you all the time," said Ron indignantly. He had turned to page forty-two and was skimming the paragraphs.  
  
"I know, but it's not the same as living in the dormitories with so many people around all the time. It was nice for a while, but it can get lonely." She had opened up the first book in her pile, Vampires through the Ages. Scanning the Table of Contents, she located what she was looking for and flipped forward a few chapters. A moment later, she slammed the book shut, and stood. "Wrong edition," she explained as she walked back into the stacks.  
  
Harry looked up and out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy stand as well. He watched as Malfoy headed in the general direction that Hermione took. Harry was too far away to know if Draco had stopped her or not.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ron had realized that Harry was distracted and swung around to look in the same direction as Harry was looking.  
  
"Malfoy. He just followed Hermione into those stacks." Harry's quill was poised to finish the sentence he had been writing, and he laid it down.  
  
"Do you think we should follow them?" asked Ron, a bit concerned.  
  
Harry bit his lip. "No, let's wait a moment. I could be wrong."  
  
They waited, and several minutes later, Hermione came walking towards them, a little flushed. She avoided both of her friends' eyes as she sat down. They stared at her, waiting for her to say something.  
  
"What did Malfoy want?" inquired Ron.  
  
Hermione looked from one boy to the other. "M. Malfoy? Er, something about this morning's lesson." She colored slightly, and quickly opened the updated edition of her vampire book.  
  
"You didn't have the Slytherins this morning," Ron said pointedly. "You had the Hufflepuffs."  
  
Hermione shot him a dirty look. "How do you know my schedule?"  
  
"I don't," said Ron. "But Ernie MacMillan and I were complaining about you together in Herbology."  
  
"What!?" shrieked Hermione.  
  
"They were discussing how much homework we had, that's all," explained Harry, hoping to avoid an argument between the two of them. Their fights had been kept to a minimum this year, most likely because they weren't together constantly. Harry had found that his own headaches had subsided as a result.  
  
"I don't give any more homework than any of the other teachers," stated Hermione.  
  
"Stop avoiding the question," said Ron. "What did Malfoy want?"  
  
"Nothing," she protested, pretending to be engrossed with what she was reading. But she was blushing furiously.  
  
Ron studied her intently. "The last time you were this embarrassed was fourth year when Krum was always around." Ron was slowly putting two and two together. "Funny, he always haunted the library as well. And, in the end, it was because of you, Professor Granger."  
  
"Stop calling me that," said Hermione. "This has nothing to do with Krum."  
  
Harry was catching on to what Ron was getting at. "Hermione, is Malfoy pursuing you?" He stifled a laugh behind his hand.  
  
"No," she said, her voice clipped. "I have no idea what you are talking about." However, she refused to look up at them.  
  
"He is, isn't he!?" hissed Ron. His reaction was one of anger rather than amusement. "I can't believe it. Who the hell does he think he is? He's called you names since the moment he met you, and now he's brown- nosing because you're a teacher? What the hell is going on?"  
  
"Shhh. Ron, calm down," said Harry. Several students were staring curiously at the three of them. "It's not like he's tried to get her alone or anything. I mean, he hasn't asked you out, right?"  
  
Hermione finally gave up the battle. She flung down the book. "Fine. If you want to know all the sordid details, then yes, he did ask me out." Ron almost exploded right there in the middle of the library, Madame Pince or no Madame Pince. "But, I told him absolutely not, that it would be entirely inappropriate for me as a teacher to date a student of mine, regardless of the circumstances."  
  
"You just told him that now?" Ron persisted.  
  
"No, I told him that three days ago, when he caught me in the hall again." Hermione leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "I swear, he keeps following me everywhere. It's driving me mad. And, he hasn't said a derogatory comment to me all year. Well, besides that first night." She shook her head in confusion. "But after what happened, he's been a perfect gentleman, and he got the entire Slytherin class to behave for me. I don't get it."  
  
"What happened?" said the boys in unison. Both of them leaned in to hear better.  
  
She blushed again and stuttered, "I. I'd rather not say."  
  
"What happened that first night, Hermione?" insisted Ron. Harry was practically holding him down in his chair.  
  
"He kissed me," she whispered.  
  
"He WHAT?!" bellowed Ron. "You let that filthy piece of scum kiss you!"  
  
Madame Pince rushed over to them. "Professor Granger, what is the problem?" She sounded extremely irritated.  
  
Hermione, quite simply, wanted to die. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She was going to murder Ron. And Harry, for that matter, because he was laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe.  
  
With as much dignity as she could muster, she turned to the librarian and apologized. "I'm sorry, Madame Pince. I believe I must be going back to my rooms now." Standing up, she glowered one last time at her two friends before sweeping out of the library with every head turned towards her. Thanks to Ron, everyone was going to know that someone had kissed her. And, it probably wouldn't take the whole school long to figure out who had done it.  
  
Draco hurriedly followed Hermione out of the library, down a few corridors, and up several staircases to her rooms. He knew where they were now. He had figured that out by the first week of the term. He also knew that she changed the password to her apartment every other Tuesday night. This week's password was Hungarian Horntail after the dragon that Potter had gotten past in fourth year, he supposed.  
  
He had drunk enough of the potion for it to last two hours, and he had pocketed enough for later on, when he needed to get back to his dorm after hours. He had figured that it would be best if he could slip in unseen when she came back to her rooms from the library. At this time of night, in this rarely trod corridor, he hadn't even had to be careful of bumping into people. As long as he didn't get too close to her when they walked through the door together, his plan would work fine.  
  
She gave the password and the portrait swung open. Draco crept in behind her, so close that he breathed in the lavender scented soap that she used. Then, he moved to sit down close to the fire and watched her.  
  
She walked into her bedroom, and began fishing for nightclothes, he assumed. She was partially hidden behind the door, and he could only see the array of clothing that she kept throwing onto her neatly made bed. First the robe that she had been wearing. Then a long black skirt, and on top of that a plain white blouse. A lacy white bra fell onto the floor beside the bed along with a pair of black silk stockings.  
  
Draco swallowed and reminded himself why he was there. And, it was not to see Hermione Granger unclothed. When she came back into view, she had on a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms that sat on her hips and a cotton tank top that didn't leave much to his imagination. He saw her shiver slightly and grab the long cotton robe from a hook by the bedroom door. She was muttering something under her breath, but he caught the words "kill" and "Ron".  
  
She scooped up the clothes that she had just discarded and put them away. She shut out the light to her bedroom. She walked through her living room into the small kitchenette, braiding her hair as she went. With her arms up in the air like that, her tank top pulled up even further and Draco was greeted with a display of her waist. He really needed to stop thinking about Granger this way, he realized. Bloody hell, a few months ago he had been calling her mudblood!  
  
He could hear cupboard doors opening and closing, and he saw that she had set out a glass of wine for herself and a few nibbles. She moved gracefully into the living room again, her hips swaying from side to side.  
  
Draco glanced at the clock on the wall. He still had about 20 minutes before the potion wore off. Hermione plopped down on the sofa opposite the fire and grabbed a book atop the table.  
  
It was five minutes before she turned a page. It was another seven before she turned the next one. Hermione Granger was taking much too long to read a silly little novel. "I can't believe Ron did that," he heard her say to herself. "I am so embarrassed. It's not like I asked to be kissed." She groaned in frustration and threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. "Now MacGonagell is going to say something to me, I know it."  
  
She picked up the wine and finished most of it off in one long swallow. Holding up the glass in the light, she seemed to make a decision. She got back up and went into the kitchenette again.  
  
Draco could feel the potion wearing off and so, moving quietly, he sat himself down in the armchair situated directly across from the doorway she was about to come through. Placing an ankle on his opposite knee, he stretched his arms out and waited for her to see him.  
  
Hermione was still thinking about the scene in the library. She could not get her mind off of it, no matter how hard she tried. She thought that a glass of wine might help, but after realizing that only one would not do anything, she headed back to the kitchen to pour a bit more. Not bothering with a light, she simply poured another glass and turned right back around to her living room.  
  
She shrieked, there was simply no other word for it. The wine and the glass went flying up and spilled all over the carpet. She stood stock- still, staring at her uninvited guest.  
  
For Draco Malfoy was sitting in her armchair, right in front of her fire. He had a smirk on his face. For a moment, she couldn't move, and she watched as he lazily pulled his wand out of his pocket. He pointed at the glass shards and said, "Reparo!" The pieces fell back into place as if someone were gluing them together. One more quick spell, and the wine was back in the glass and the glass was in her hand. He flipped his wand carelessly back into his pocket.  
  
She pulled herself together. Rushing towards him, she angrily flung the wine in his face and banged the glass down on the table.  
  
"Damn you, Malfoy!" she screamed. Deprived of her weapon, she hurled herself on top of him, fists flying. His hands came up to fend her off, but he wasn't quick enough. She got one or two good blows in before he found her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he subdued her firmly but gently.  
  
Her breathing was harsh as she scowled at him. Draco let her calm down a bit , and Hermione was well aware of the feeling of his powerful thighs underneath her bottom.  
  
"Are you going to hit me if I let you go?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head wordlessly. He relieved the pressure of his arms, and she scrambled to stand up. Turning away from him, she pulled the robe around her tighter and knotted it in the front.  
  
"How the hell did you get in here, Malfoy?" Her voice was very low. She was simply furious.  
  
He shrugged carelessly. "There are more ways than one to become invisible, Granger."  
  
"Invisible?" Her thoughts rushed back to Harry's invisibility cloak. You couldn't just walk through doors with it. And that meant, "You've been here since I walked in?"  
  
"Calm down, Granger," he retorted. "I didn't see anything. That's not why I'm here."  
  
"You watched me change my clothes?" She held her robes around her more tightly, and a hint of panic rose in her voice. "You heard what I was saying?"  
  
"A bit." He shrugged. "It's not my fault that I'm here. I've asked you out several times, and you keep refusing me. I've been trying to get you alone, so I can speak to you, but there's always people around. I had to take some drastic measures."  
  
"I'll say!" she exclaimed. "How did you become invisible? I mean, you don't have a cloak, do you?"  
  
"Nope. Potion. Been making it since fifth year." He brushed some invisible lint off of his black pants. Once again, he wore no robes, just a white shirt, now stained, and black pants. The look was startling against his pale, pointed face and startling blue eyes.  
  
"I'll take some of that wine, though preferably in a glass," he ordered.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling and threw up her arms. "Men!" She walked into the kitchen and came out with a towel. "Here, catch," she said. Then she went back and poured two more glasses of wine. She handed Draco his and then took a sip from her own as she sat down once again on the sofa.  
  
"All right," she said,warily, "you have obviously gone to some extreme measures to get me alone. So, what is so important that you need to tell me?" Her wand was in the other room, and she glanced nervously in its direction.  
  
Malfoy noticed and he said, "Go get your wand, if it will make you feel better." He paused and waited for her to get up. "Go ahead, I don't care."  
  
Hermione got up and hurried into her room. A moment later, she returned with her wand clutched in her hand. "Okay, begin."  
  
"I need your help," stated Draco. "And Potter's and Weasley's, too."  
  
Hermione looked at him as if he had gone insane. "Huh?"  
  
"I figured the only way to get them to talk to me was to convince you first. I know how they feel about me. It's the same as I feel about them. But, if I'm going to accomplish anything, I'll need help from all of you."  
  
Hermione sat there, stunned. Her wine was poised half-way to her mouth. Luckily, she hadn't choked on any.  
  
Draco stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace. He caught his breath and then continued, "Do you know what I did this summer?"  
  
She shook her head, wondering why this was important.  
  
He stared blindly into the fire. "I buried my parents. Voldemort sent my father on an attack that he knew would kill him. Then, he killed my mother and ransacked my home. He took family heirlooms and emptied our family vault of galleons." He paused. "And, then, he came after me.  
  
"He chased me through a secret passageway and into the gardens. I was dodging curses and hexes left and right. I was barely managing to be one step ahead of him. I think the only reason I held on for so long was because I was in such good physical condition.  
  
"He had cornered me, and was taunting me about my parents. He started to scream out the killing curse to finish me when a ministry of magic member threw himself in front of me. He saved my life and partially deflected the curse with a shield charm.  
  
"Do you know who it was?" asked Malfoy. Hermione shook her head.  
  
"It was David Flannery, a Hufflepuff who I had screamed mudblood at so many times." He shook his head and bitterness laced his next words. "I couldn't believe it. Voldemort, who my father had always bowed down to, had killed both him and my mother, and a mudblood had saved me!" Hermione flinched at his use of the term mudlbood.  
  
He was silent, completely lost in his own thoughts. Hermione had no idea how to respond. Draco suddenly whirled around.  
  
"I began to realize that I really was completely alone in this world. I would never answer to Voldemort, and Dumbledore would never allow me to join forces against him. I haven't exactly been quiet about my views in supporting the Dark Side. Crabbe and Goyle will follow in their parents' footsteps when they leave Hogwarts. They cannot think for themselves enough to walk away from Voldemort." He sighed.  
  
"But I do have plenty of information which will aid Dumbledore in the Dark Lord's defeat." He rushed to her side and sat down on the sofa next to her. "I know spells that they use, that my father has been training me in since third year. I know hideouts, meeting places, and names of dark wizards who have been placed in the ministry as spies. I know bits and pieces of war tactics that Voldemort will be putting into place. I even know bits and pieces of information about Potter that I am not supposed to know."  
  
"What?" cried Hermione. "What about Harry? Is Voldemort going to try to hurt him again?"  
  
"Hermione, Lord Voldemort is obsessed with killing Potter. He will kill Harry as soon as he can get to him. And, Harry is not going to be very safe once he is out of Hogwarts, even with the Order hovering around him."  
  
Hermione studied his face intently. "You're not lying about all this, are you?" she asked quietly. Draco shook his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
He looked away from her, but she reached for his face and turned it back to her. His expression was one of a lost puppy who didn't have a home. "I'm really sorry, Draco, that you lost your family." She meant it, too. Without thinking about whom it was, she put her arms around him and hugged him.  
  
Draco sat stiffly for a moment, and then, closing his eyes, he relaxed into the embrace. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, and she stroked his hair with her fingers. Her robe had slipped off her shoulder, and she felt tears on her skin.  
  
"Shh, it's going to be okay," she crooned. "We'll figure something out."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to her as if he were afraid to let go. She held him until she felt all of the tension leave his body. She held him until he pulled away from her and gazed into her eyes. She was transfixed, mesmerized by their clear blueness. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she tacitly asked her question.  
  
Their faces crept closer together until they were a whisper apart, and Hermione closed her eyes as his lips claimed hers. This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared before. Malfoy had kissed her to dominate her, to show her who was in charge, and this kiss was nothing like that. This kiss was warm and gentle. It was sharing and giving. And, it was crumbling her every defense.  
  
His strong, warm hands had found her waist inside her robe, and they pulled her onto his lap. He touched her exposed back, and a shiver ran through her spine. He pulled her closer to him until they were pressing against each other, chest to chest. Their tongues tangled together, tasting each other, teasing each other.  
  
Draco leaned her back against his arm, and her head tilted back slightly. His lips caressed her chin, her throat and her collarbone. She had never felt like this before, boneless and giddy, desperate for the sensation coursing through her body to continue. She looked down at his silky hair, and suddenly it hit her. Draco Malfoy was doing this to her. And she hated herself for liking it.  
  
She stiffened and pushed herself away from him. As if waking from a reverie, Malfoy visibly shook himself and let his arms drop from her body. She struggled to lift herself off his lap. Wrapping her robe tightly around herself, she walked away from him, towards the fire. She closed her eyes, gathering her courage to face him. She heard him shift and knew that he stood up.  
  
She listened to his foot falls as he crossed the room and felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Hermione," he whispered.  
  
She couldn't say anything to him. Her voice wouldn't work.  
  
"Hermione," he repeated. "It's okay."  
  
Hermione refused to look at him. "Please, just go."  
  
"But..." Malfoy was at a loss for words. "I...I.."  
  
She whirled around and stared him straight in the eye. Then, she looked everywhere except at him. "Please, Draco, just leave. We can discuss this tomorrow." He didn't move. "Please." He heard the desperate edge to her voice, despite the fact that she was trying to hide it.  
  
He reached out and grasped her hand in his. His smooth lips glided across the top of her hand. "Thank you. I'll be in touch." In one swift motion, he turned to exit the room.  
  
Before she could stop herself, Hermione blurted out, "It's late. I'll write you a pass to get back to your common room."  
  
Draco slowly turned to face her, his head cocked to one side, a smirk on his face. "Thank you for being so concerned, Professor Granger, but I can handle it myself. I've been getting around just fine for the past two years." He reached into his pants' pocket with his right hand and pulled out a small vial. He shook it slightly, pulled the stopper out and drank it in one swig. The smirk was still on his face as he faded from sight.  
  
Hermione's mouth still hung open as she watched her door open and close. Malfoy had left. She was sure of it. She let out a breath she had not realized that she was holding. Tomorrow was going to be interesting. 


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Hermione was teaching a class of first years basic defensive spells when the door opened. Ignoring the interruption, she finished her lecture on disarming spells before acknowledging the person who had entered her classroom.  
  
In truth, Draco had barely interrupted. He had slipped into a seat in the back row and was staring at the vision before him. He had never thought of Hermione as a woman before. Not until that night in the corridor in the dungeons. Not until he had tasted the sweetness of her kiss. Not until he had caressed her skin, under her nightclothes, along her waist and onto her hip.  
  
He shook himself mentally. He could NOT think about Granger this way. This whole mission was not about Granger. It was about getting revenge on the wizard that had murdered his parents and left him alone in the world.  
  
The bell rang, awakening him from his reverie. All of the first-years gathered their books and exited the classroom. As they passed him, their eyes widened and their bodies shrunk from him. Their small hands hid their whispered voices. He couldn't even distinguish their words, but he knew already what they said.  
  
He was a Death Eater, a Slytherin, an orphan. He knew all about what they said. He waited until the last one had left before he stood and strolled up to Hermione's desk.  
  
Before he could say a word, she rushed in with, "What took place last night should never have happened. I'm sorry that it did and I think it needs to be made clear that it should never happen again."  
  
She made no sense when she was nervous. And Draco knew that she was extremely nervous. He smiled. It tickled him that he had such an influence over her.  
  
"I just came to let you know that I would be in Hogsmeade this weekend. At the Hog's Head. Around one o'clock, I was thinking. I didn't know if you wanted to drop by. We could discuss a few things."  
  
She took a deep breath, and the next sentence seemed forced. "Should I invite Harry and Ron?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "No, not yet. You don't trust me. Why should they trust me?" He leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "No, it will be just you and me."  
  
Her eyes narrowed at him shrewdly. "You're just trying to intimidate me."  
  
His laugh reverberated around the empty room. "You're right. And it's working."  
  
"Don't be a creep, Malfoy. If you want my help, you need to answer a few questions." She busied herself by stacking several parchments on top of each other. "Like, I want to know why..."  
  
Draco glanced surreptitiously around the room. "Don't say anything now. There's ears all over the place. I'll answer all your questions this weekend." He turned around and headed for the door.  
  
"Three Broomsticks. I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks at two o'clock." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.  
  
Malfoy paused, but didn't turn around. "Three Broomsticks. Two o'clock." And then he continued walking right out the door.

Hermione glanced at her watch. It was five minutes until two on Saturday afternoon. She sat in a back corner of the Three Broomsticks, almost hidden completely from the view of her former classmates. She hoped that Ron and Harry did not see her. She knew that they would probably spend a good portion of the afternoon at the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer and flirting with the Ravenclaw girls that they currently had crushes on.  
  
As much as she feared discovery, she knew that she was smart to have changed the meeting place. As Sirius had once said, it was better to conduct business of this sort out in the open in a busy place than in a deserted bar where one could be overheard.  
  
The door opened and a cold rush of air swept through the inn. Draco, his face flushed from the cold and his hair tousled, entered the place as if he owned it. He waved a hello to some fellow Slytherins who were sitting at a window table. He walked over to a group of fifth years and cracked a few jokes on the biggest guy at the table. Draco was popular among his own set, Hermione observed.  
  
After grabbing a butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta at the bar, he headed towards the restrooms in the back of the building, catching Hermione's eye before he did so. Hermione waited. He would come back out and slide into the seat across from her. She just knew he would.  
  
Five minutes later, they were both hidden from view. Bent low over the table, their heads were inches apart as the whispered to each other. Laughter and chatter filled the inn. Hermione did not think it possible to overhear them above the noise.  
  
"All right," said Hermione. "I want to know why. Why are you asking for my help? And Ron and Harry's? You hate us. You despise us. What is going on?"  
  
Draco shrugged carelessly. "Everyone knows about the D.A., Hermione. Everyone knows that you three headed it up. It still exists, even though The Toad turned into a basketcase after fifth year."  
  
Hermione sat back in shock. "How...how did you know about the D.A.? How did you find out?"  
  
Draco leaned towards her, his hand slipping around the butterbeer that he held in front of him. "Hermione, I thought you were smarter than this. Remember, I've known how to make that invisibility potion since fifth year."  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped. "You... you've been at the D.A.'s meetings? In the Room of Requirement?"  
  
Draco didn't answer. He just sat there, a smug expression spread across his face, and took a swig of his drink.  
  
Hermione visibly shook herself. "Okay, forget about the D.A. Answer my question. Why my help?"  
  
Draco's expression suddenly became very serious. "Because I know that you and Potter and Weasley are possibly the most experienced students in this school when it comes to defending yourselves and others against the Dark Lord. The others are quite competent as well. I'm even surprised at how good Longbottom's become. I never knew he had it in him." He paused. "And you are in a position of power now. You were right that first night. You are a teacher, and I'm merely a student. You are in a place to actually influence somebody outside Hogwarts. I'm not right now."  
  
"So, what do you want us to do? And how do I know that you really have changed sides?" Though Hermione remained wary of him, she was curious to know what he had planned.  
  
"All I want you to do is cultivate conversation in the DADA classroom," he said.  
  
"That's it?" she asked.  
  
He nodded. "It's simple. The majority of seventh year Slytherins are taking DADA because it's an easy grade on the NEWTs. We know all of the stuff that you are teaching us about the Dark Side. We've been fed on it growing up. We've lived it. I have shared meals with Death Eaters since the time I was born, and most of the time they didn't even realize that I was there. I was just a little kid. They took very little notice of me."  
  
Hermione slumped in her chair, her face twisted into a thoughtful expression. "So I basically get the Slytherins to talk. And they're going to let things out that they don't even realize that they know." Draco started to nod, a grin spreading over his face. Realization dawned on Hermione. "They won't shun you because you aren't going to be telling me exactly what you know. You will just be encouraging everyone else to spill their guts." She thought for a moment. "It's not a bad idea."  
  
Hermione took a sip of her butterbeer before saying, "Is there anyone who I should pinpoint? Especially encourage?"  
  
Draco seemed to be fighting a battle within himself. Finally, he answered her. "Crabbe and Goyle. They know tons of stuff but they're not smart enough to know when not to speak. Get Pansy riled up, and she'll spew her guts to you. Leave Millicent Bulstrode alone. She'll come out on her own eventually."  
  
Hermione considered this. "Okay. Say that I agree to do this. What happens from there? Who do we tell? How do we tell them? Dumbledore?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "We won't have to tell anyone. There's a portrait in your classroom. Haven't you noticed it?"  
  
Hermione tilted her head, confusion writ on her face. Draco continued, "It's of an old Headmaster. A Gryffindor Headmaster by the name of Sigmund Guilford. He'll run to Dumbledore. I'm sure of it." He glanced around, his eyes darting to the far corners of the room. "I've got to run now. It'll be really suspicious if we continue talking much longer. I'm telling them that I had to ask about that DADA assignment that you gave us on Friday." The cocky expression had returned to his face. "And it helps that they think I'm trying to shag you."  
  
A small gasp escaped Hermione's lips. Draco chucked her lightly under the chin before spinning around and sliding off to his friends on the other side of the room.  
  
Hermione stood, slamming the books that she had with her on top of each other. With a little growl, she swept them off of the table and hurried out of the inn. Draco Malfoy was really getting under her skin lately.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews everybody! Hope you continue to enjoy it!!  
  
Hermione stood in front of the painting that was hidden in a back corner of the classroom. The wizard in front of her sat tall and stiff in a high-backed chair. He was trying to pretend that he was a muggle painting–one that didn't move. She smiled as she watched him try to hold his breath.  
  
"Mr. Guilford, you should really breathe before you pass out," advised Hermione.  
  
The wizard's breath came out in a whoosh. He groaned, and put his head in his hands. "Dumbledore's going to have my head. I tried so hard, and now you know that I'm here."  
  
Hermione's eyebrows raised. "I assume that Dumbledore put you in here because he wanted you to spy on me?"  
  
The wizard shrugged. "He was just a little concerned about how the students would treat you. Since you were supposed to be graduating this year and not teaching."  
  
Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and indulged him with a smile. "And what have you told Dumbledore?"  
  
The wizard sat proudly his seat. "I told him that any Gryffindor, especially one as quick as you are, would have no problems."  
  
"I guess you didn't tell him about my first day with the seventh year Slytherins?" she asked frankly.  
  
"I may have mentioned it," said Sigmund, "but I told him that they turned completely around by the second class. Though for some reason, I feel that the boy Draco Malfoy may have had more to do with that than you did." He stroked his bearded chin with his right hand thoughtfully.  
  
Her classroom door slammed open and Hermione whirled around to see who had barged into her room unannounced. Draco was back, and he was striding towards her.  
  
"Hermione," he greeted her. He glanced at the painting at which she had been looking. The wizard was pretending to snooze now. "Damn Gryffindor headmasters."  
  
Hermione slugged him in the side of his body. "Excuse me, but you're outnumbered right now."  
  
Draco grinned mischievously. "Whatever."  
  
She walked purposefully up to the front of the classroom. He followed her, and set his books on his usual desk. He planted himself in front of her, his feet set apart and his arms crossed at his chest.   
  
"We start today," he announced. "By the end of the period, we will have gotten at least a game plan of recent events of the Dark Lord and the Deatheaters."  
  
Hermione sighed and sat down. "Draco, don't you know all of this? Why can't you just tell me?"  
  
"That's exactly it, Hermione. I don't know anymore. I've been cut off from everything that has been happening recently. Nobody discusses anything in my presence. Though, I haven't really invited them to be around me, "he admitted.  
  
A familiar cackle was heard from the hallway, and Draco slumped into his seat. A moment later, Pansy Parkinson and her friends walked into the classroom together. The group was chattering and making so much raucous noise that Hermione was tempted to put her hands over her ears. The whole group stared at Hermione for a moment before bursting into laughter. Hermione ignored them.  
  
More Slytherins entered the room and the bell rang.  
  
A moment later, all was quiet. The students gave Hermione their reluctant attention. Hermione flicked her wand towards the blackboard and words appeared out of nowhere. "Discussion: You-Know-Who's Influence on Current Wizard Society."  
  
A few surprised murmurs spread through the crowd. Hermione strolled down the row of desks, her wand still in her hand.  
  
"Wands away, please. Today, we're having an open discussion." A flutter of activity pursued. Hermione continued, "Let's start with how You-Know-Who indirectly influenced decisions made in the Magic of Ministry during his former rise."  
  
The students did not make a sound. Hermione decided it was time to make a move. "Pansy. Your input." Hermione turned and stared at her nemesis, a bland expression on her face.  
  
The silence was long and drawn out. After a minute, Pansy began to fidget. All eyes were staring at her expectantly. Nobody was going to save her. Nobody wanted to answer the question. Not even Malfoy took pity on her.  
  
"Through the spies that he placed in the ministry," she finally said in an undertone. Hermione nodded. This was common knowledge. Everyone knew that the Dark Lord had spies in the ministry. Certain ones had been convicted, but several still lingered in the Minister of Magic's closest circle.  
  
"Who was convicted during the first round of investigations?" asked Hermione. Still looking at Pansy, she barked out, "Goyle."  
  
"Uh, uh.." Goyle faltered in his answer. "I guess, uh, Rookwood."  
  
Once again, it was a piece of information that was common enough. "Do you think that he and several others should have been imprisoned? Do you think that if they hadn't been imprisoned that You-Know-Who would have returned sooner?"  
  
"Of course," volunteered Pansy. "The Dark Lord needed them, and they could not reach him. They knew that he couldn't take over without their support."  
  
Her friend Patrice nudged her and glared a warning at Pansy. Pansy looked as if she wanted to hit her friend back, but she restrained herself. She sank into her chair, sulking.  
  
"So, Rookwood was convicted. He passed crucial information to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A lowly crime, to be sure. His information ended up causing the demise of several wizards and witches who may have been able to slow the You-Know-Who's progress." Hermione continued her stroll down the aisles, keeping her tone light.  
  
A snort came from the back of the room. Hermione turned her head towards the noise. "Karl, would you like to add to this discussion?"  
  
Everybody turned to face the next victim, relief on their own faces that they were not the center of attention. Karl Moorehouse was a slimy teenager who kept mostly to himself. "It was hardly a lowly crime. There's been worse. Much worse, that were never even discovered."  
  
Glares were sent from all directions towards him. He sat up straight in his chair and stared defiantly at his peers. "Like the time your father tortured Potter's parents for fifteen hours straight, Pansy. Remember that?"  
  
A fleeting look of fright crossed Pansy's expression. But, then she narrowed her eyes and screwed up her face. "Or the time that your mother imprisoned the Bones' in her cellar for five days, starving them, torturing them, and then killing them in the end as they pleaded for their lives."  
  
Their eyes flashed at each other before Moorehouse burst into laughter. The rest of the class followed his lead. Hermione glanced at the two students. Was what they were saying true? Or were they trying to provoke her? She wasn't sure.  
  
"So, Rookwood was convicted and then escaped approximately two years ago. Where do you think he is now? Has he returned to You-Know-Who?"  
  
Pansy cried out, "Of course. He has no choice. None of them have a choice."  
  
"Everybody has a choice, Pansy," said Hermione in a steady tone. She stopped next to Draco's desk in the front of the room.  
  
Pansy shook her head. "You would n't know," she said emphatically. "You have no idea, Miss Pris. Once you have committed yourself to the Dark Lord, there's only one way out. And, nobody has ever been able to escape it." Pansy spared a glance for Malfoy before continuing. "If the Dark Lord hears even a whisper of betrayal, his followers will kill you. If he hears of the barest hint that you are trying to overthrow him, he will hunt you down and destroy you. Ask Malfoy. He knows." She nudged her head in Malfoy's direction.  
  
Draco's eyes had turned an ice blue. Rage emanated from him. Hermione took a step away from his desk, slightly unnerved by the strong emotions. Not a word was spoken until Crabbe spoke up.  
  
"Look at Karkaroff. He knew what was coming to him. So he ran, like a pussy. He couldn't even stand up like a man and face the Dark Lord, who he had betrayed." Crabbe's speech was cut off by a swift kick from Goyle.  
  
Now this was interesting, thought Hermione. She had not heard Karkaroff's name mentioned since fourth year, when he had been at Hogwarts for the tournament. Had Karkaroff been caught and killed by Voldemort? She thought that might be an interesting fact for Dumbledore to know.  
  
The bell rang and the students dispersed. Within thirty seconds, the room was empty. Draco avoided Hermione's eyes, and she let him go. When he was ready to confess the whole truth, he would. She knew it. She could feel it in her gut. And her gut was rarely incorrect.   
  
Hermione headed out of the door for her noontime meal. She paused before the painting of Sigmund Guilford. "Is it true, do you think?"  
  
He shrugged. "A bit more investigation is needed, I believe."  
  
She nodded and left for lunch.  
  
Hermione returned to her rooms that evening to find Ron and Harry arguing with the milkmaid.   
  
"Come on," Ron whined. "Let us in. You know us by now."  
  
But the milkmaid staunchly refused. "You don't know the new password. You're not allowed into the room until you know it. I'm sorry."  
  
"Come on, Ron," urged Harry. "Let's go. We'll catch up with Hermione later." They turned around only to find their friend standing in front of them.  
  
"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron. "If you're going to change the password, I really wish that you would tell us."  
  
"Ron, I would like some privacy in my life," she stated. She turned to the milkmaid. "Crookshanks." The portrait swung open.   
  
"Bloody portrait," mumbled Ron, following Hermione into her living room. Harry walked through the doorway a moment before the portrait closed.  
  
Ron threw himself into a chair, pointed his wand at the fire, and cried, "Censum Caminus". A moment later, a cheery fire lighted the room.  
  
Harry followed Hermione into her small kitchenette. He grabbed several butterbeers out of her small refrigerator and handed them around. Hermione pulled a bag of snacks from a cabinet and set them out for the three of them to munch on.   
  
She settled herself on the couch before asking, "So what brings you two around here?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "We haven't seen you in while. We figured that we ought to stop by and make sure Malfoy wasn't harassing you anymore."  
  
Hermione smirked. "I can take care of myself, you know. I don't always need you two hovering around." She reached out to grab a chip from the basket that she had put out.  
  
"How have classes with Pansy and company been going?" asked Harry.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Okay, I guess. It's actually not too bad. Once Malfoy talked to them, they all have been ... well, not pleasant, but cooperative."  
  
Ron's eyebrows narrowed. "Malfoy talked to them? On your behalf?"  
  
Hermione nodded and stuffed another chip into her mouth. Both of her friends were staring at her quizzically.   
  
Harry finally broke the silence. "Okay, Hermione, what's going on? Has Malfoy somehow cast a spell over you? There's no reason at all for him to defend you."  
  
Hermione squirmed under their intense gazes. "Oh, fine. I was going to have to tell you eventually, anyway."  
  
"What?" Ron asked suspiciously.  
  
"Malfoy has come to ask me for help. As well as both of you." They waited for her to expand her explanation.  
  
"He lost his parents over the summer," continued Hermione. "And, he's been questioning his loyalty to You-Know-Who. He asked me to encourage open discussion in their DADA class. It wasn't a big deal, so I agreed."  
  
"You agreed?!" exclaimed Ron.  
  
Hermione quieted him with a look. "Yes, and we found out some interesting information."  
  
Harry asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Apparently, Karkaroff has been caught. And, according to Crabbe, has been killed. Who knows what information he gave Vold.. ....You-Know-Who before he died."  
  
"You ought to tell Dumbledore," instructed Ron.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "It's been taken care of. That's the beauty of the plan. Seventh year Slytherins telling all their secrets to me without realizing that they are doing it. They aren't a very bright bunch, and they don't think that what I know could influence the world outside these four walls."  
  
"But you couldn't," pointed out Ron.  
  
Hermione smiled secretively. "No, not directly. But, word travels quickly around Hogwarts, and Dumbledore will definitely find out what they say."  
  
"It's almost too foolproof," said Harry thoughtfully.  
  
"Has Malfoy tried to take advantage of you recently?" growled Ron, returning to the original reason that they had come to visit.  
  
"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.  
  
"Well?" he asked.  
  
"No," said Hermione shortly. "Really, you have a one-track mind when it comes to females, don't you?"  
  
Ron didn't answer. He just grinned. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend.  
  
"Ron, I can take care of myself around Malfoy," Hermione assured him.  
  
Ron just shook his head doubtfully and stuffed another chip in his mouth. 


	6. Chapter 6

Several days later, Hermione walked briskly towards the far side of the lake, a small blanket in her arms, her wand in her back pocket. She wanted to think. She wanted to be by herself. And, she wanted to get out of her own rooms. Sometimes the four walls seemed to be moving closer and closer to the center of the room, making it smaller and smaller. A breath of fresh air seemed a good idea, so she threw on some jeans and a jumper and headed outside.

The autumn day was unusually warm, the first Hogsmeade weekend. Ron and Harry had taken off bright and early to go into town. Seventh years were given free reign since most of them were of age. Harry and Ron had several errands to do for the Order and hadn't wanted to disappoint Dumbledore or Lupin. Hermione had decided to stay behind.

Hermione threw the blanket on the ground underneath a large willow tree. Sunlight filtered through the boughs of the tree, and the light breeze was pleasant. She was almost entirely hidden from anybody's view. She removed her wand from her pocket and set it down. Sitting on the blanket, Hermione leaned against the trunk of the tree. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of autumn leaves was all around her, and she felt more and more relaxed as the minutes passed.

Her eyelids became heavy. Her senses began to dull. Her muscles became relaxed as the stress of the past few weeks faded away. A small smile appeared on her face as she remembered the past week's worth of classes. Really, being a teacher was fun. She enjoyed it. She wasn't sure how long she would do it, but she thought it might be worth pursuing for a while. At least for as long as Dumbledore wanted her around.

Hermione became so relaxed that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching the tree. She didn't realize that there was someone else over her until he was right there. Her eyes flew open and a tall shadow was silhouetted in the sunlight dripping through the leaves. She let out a small gasp before he overtook her.

Draco had watched Hermione leave the castle from the Astronomy Tower. He had climbed the steep stairs because he knew that he would be alone. He needed a moment by himself, away from the enclosed dungeons. From the top of the tower, he had a view in every direction for miles around. He watched as the long line of students, in twos and threes, made their way to Hogsmeade.

Then, about ten minutes after, he watched as a single feminine form had emerged from the Great Hall, heading towards the lake. He recognized Hermione's easy gait and watched as she flung her honey brown hair over her shoulder.

He was obsessed, he had started to realize. She haunted his thoughts, his dreams. He went to sleep thinking about her, and he woke up thinking of her. He was distracted in Transfiguration just wondering what Hermione was doing at that moment in time, and he counted the minutes until he would see her again. He couldn't understand this fascination with her. She was just a girl, just a normal witch. He hadn't even liked her before this year. He still didn't know if he liked her.

He sighed. He was going to have to seek her out now. He hadn't been alone with her in several days. He wanted to be. He needed to be. Sighing, he scrambled to his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, and wandered back down the stairs. He took his time ambling across the lawn, towards the lake. The giant squid rose slightly above the water before realizing that Draco wasn't going to feed him. The giant squid seemed to give him an angry look before descending back into the depths of the water.

Draco headed for the weeping willow that he saw her settle down under. He could see the tip of her blanket laid out on the fading grass. As he approached, he heard a soft gasp. He hurried over to the tree and ducked under the branches. But, Hermione wasn't alone.

A rage rose up in Draco. A rage that he hadn't experienced since this summer when his parents died. He whipped his wand out of his pocket, and pointed it at the boy he had known since he was ten. He had shared a dormitory with him, and he knew all of his secrets.

Draco stared at the crumpled heap under the tree. Hermione looked lifeless, her breath barely escaping from her lungs.

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you." Malfoy's voice was so low that he wasn't sure his enemy had heard him at first.

The boy laughed cynically. "Malfoy, I didn't really think you had turned. Pansy said that you did. But, I didn't believe her. Now I do." He kicked the figure on the ground. "And a Gryffindor, none-the-less. Really, this is almost too pathetic to even argue with you about."

"Don't touch her. I swear, I'll kill you." Draco stepped closer, pointing his wand at his opponent's chest.

The boy laughed again. A cold, harsh laugh. "A little bit of torture, I think." He pointed his wand at Hermione. "_Crucio!_" Hermione rose half-heartedly from her inert state and moaned loudly.

Draco, furious and beyond control, pulled out his wand. "_Impedimenta!_"

The boy's words froze and his movement became ridiculously slow. Draco kicked the wand out of the boy's hand, and threw down his own. He slammed a fist into the boy's face and another into his stomach. The boy moaned loudly. With the jinx still on him, he couldn't move fast enough to block any of the hits Draco was aiming at him.

Draco's hands were around the boy's throat. Draco lowered his own face to the boy's. "Don't touch Hermione again, Moorehouse. Don't ever go near her. If I find out that you have even entered her classroom, I will seek you out and I will kill you. You know I've done it before. I'll do it again."

Karl Moorehouse's face was purple by the time Draco released him. He scooted away from Draco, his eyes wide with terror and knowledge. Draco knew Karl was remembering that he had killed before. Draco had killed many times. First, it was animals. A rat, a bird, occasionally a dog. But last summer, he had killed a person, a human being. And, he hadn't liked himself too much afterwards, even if he had been avenging his parents' deaths.

The jinx lifted from Karl, and he quickly stood. With one last glance at his classmate, he slithered into the trees nearby.

After making sure that Karl really had left, Draco reached for Hermione. She was cold to the touch. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin was white. Draco rubbed his hands along her arms. She didn't move.

He pulled her closer to him, and rubbed his hands along her back.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Don't die on me. You can't."

Hermione's eyelids fluttered. It took her a lot of effort to open them. "So cold," she whispered.

Draco went wild. He couldn't watch Hermione die like his parents did. He couldn't do it again. He swung her up in his arms, and carried her into the entrance hall. Luckily, because it was a Hogsmeade weekend, the hall was deserted. He almost took her to his own dorm, but he hesitated. He couldn't chance that Karl was there. He headed for the Milkmaid.

He stood in front of the milkmaid, and gave the password.

The milkmaid wouldn't budge. Hermione had uncharacteristically gone against her ritual. She had changed her password before the week was out.

"Please, let me in. Your mistress needs my help. She needs your help. I have to get in to her apartment." His words fell on deaf ears. The milkmaid looked stricken, but she knew the rules. She couldn't allow him to enter.

He carefully set Hermione down on the ground. Gently, he shook her. "Hermione," he whispered. "What is your password? I need to know. What is your password into your apartments?"

The milkmaid cleared her throat. "Perhaps, I could help you guess it."

Draco looked up at her, surprised. She was going to help him? Get into a teacher's apartments? The world really had turned upside-down.

"Perhaps," continued the milkmaid, "you already know the password."

Was it a repeated password? Draco wondered.

As if reading his mind, the milkmaid shook her head. "No, Hermione has never used this password before. In fact, I was a little surprised that she did use this password. Gryffindors usually don't consort with Slytherins."

"Slytherins?" Draco was utterly confused at this point. The milkmaid was correct. Slytherins never had gotten on well with Gryffindors. Well, there were exceptions. Like, right now.

"Wait a second. Draco. The password is Draco." A bit of hope entered his tone.

The milkmaid shook her head. "It's not as obvious. You go by other names."

Draco was taken aback. Very few people knew about his other name. "The Dragon Prince?"

The milkmaid gave him a secret smile and swung open. Draco hurriedly picked up Hermione and carried her across the threshold of her apartments. He walked into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He stripped her jumper off of her, and loosened the t-shirt that she wore underneath. Her coloring was better and she was breathing more deeply, but she wouldn't wake.

Draco went to the kitchen and began perusing her stock of potions. He couldn't imagine that Hermione wouldn't keep every potion ingredient known to wizard-kind in her cupboards. He found what he was looking for on the fourth try. Stirring several ingredients together, he swirled the potion in a small cauldron that he found on the counter. He hurried into the bedroom.

Draco lifted Hermione's head slightly and tilted the potion against her lips. A small amount of liquid seeped into her mouth and down her throat. Hermione woke with a small start. Her eyes lifted to Draco's and she pulled away from him.

"No!" she cried, trying to push away his administrations.

"You need to take this potion," said Draco quietly. "It will help, I promise."

"Moorehouse," she whispered faintly.

"He's gone." Draco shook his head. "It's just you and I. We're alone." Her eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed into his. She swallowed a bit more of the potion, and then Draco took it away. He set it on the nightstand beside her bed. He tried to rise from his awkward position on the bed, but she reached out to him. She clung to him, desperately.

"Please, don't go," she said, not even opening her eyes. Draco was surprised at her request. As much as he wanted her, he had never imagined that Hermione wanted him. He moved her over on the bed and lay down beside her. She rolled into him, her soft body resting against him. He sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable. He had fallen completely for Granger. As he drifted off to sleep himself, he wondered how she had known of his nickname, The Dragon Prince.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione awoke slowly, a feeling of warmth and calm and serenity flowing through her veins. She lay on her side, in the middle of the bed. She gradually opened her eyes and her mind lifted from the haze. She realized that she was not alone, but it didn't bother her. There was someone next to her, holding her gently, and it felt good.

Hermione rolled over and looked at her bedmate. She knew who it was before she even rolled over, and she wasn't scared. She wasn't nervous. In fact, she didn't think twice about it. It was natural for Draco to be lying next to her in bed, breathing deeply. His chiseled face was softened in sleep, and his blond hair was tousled. She wanted to reach out and run her hands through it. But, most of all, she wanted to just look at him while he couldn't look at her.

Laying on her side, she propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him. His thick lashes lifted and his gray eyes showed no sign of confusion. He knew exactly where he was, and he knew exactly how he got there. And, he didn't seem to mind.

"Good morning," said Draco, his voice raspy. He flung himself onto his back and stretched.

"Good morning," said Hermione, her eyes not shifting from him.

He turned his head to look at her, and he paused. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Hermione dropped her gaze. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Thank you for chasing Moorehouse away."

Draco's features hardened. "He'll never touch you again. If he does, he knows what awaits him." Draco stared at the ceiling, placing his hands behind his head. He didn't say anythingmore.

Hermione picked at the sheets on the bed, and asked, "Draco, what did you mean earlier? About having killed? Who have you killed?"

Draco didn't answer for a long time. For a while, Hermione thought he wasn't going to answer. But after several moments of silence, he said in a low voice, "I had to do it. It was in the aftermath of my parents' death. Someone... someone had entered the house. And, I had to do it." He sounded as if he were reciting the words. Hermione stayed quiet.

Draco continued, "Voldemort sent my father on a mission that he knew would be fatal, and then he overtook our mansion. He killed my mother in her own drawing room, and hunted me down. It was a game of cat and mouse before Ministry officials showed up and saved my life."

He closed his eyes, memories flooding back that he wished would go away forever. Keeping his eyes closed, he said, "I stayed there after my parents' death. It is my home. I own it now. It was passed down to me in my father's will. It was one of the few things that could never belong to the Death Eaters. My father made sure of that. He put a charm on the home, and Voldemort could not touch it.

"One night, about three days after the Dark Lord's invasion of my home, I heard a noise. I was in my room, and it was night. I thought I would go and investigate. I found him prowling around my home. When he saw me, he raised his wand and pointed it at my chest. I knew I would be done for if I didn't kill him first. And, so I did. I killed a man and I can never forget the look on his face when he realized that he was breathing his last breath."

"Who... who was it?" Hermione asked, hesitantly.

Draco turned and looked deeply into her eyes. "I thought you were smarter than that, Hermione. Don't you know yet?" Hermione didn't answer. "Hermione, it was Moorehouse's father."

A small gasp escaped from her lips.

Draco turned his head away from her, back up at the ceiling. "I killed my friend's father. And, I contacted Dumbledore immediately afterwards. I knew that he would be my only hope. Dumbledore came and fixed everything. I would return to Hogwarts; there would be no criminal charges. I was acting in my defense. Someone had broken into my own home, and I had acted instinctively. Dumbledore knew, of course, that Moorehouse had been a Death Eater, but he did what he needed to do so that I would be cleared."

A long silence ensued. Finally Hermione said tentatively, "It seems like you had a long summer."

Draco merely nodded and closed his eyes, trying to block out the demons that threatened to overocome him once again.


	8. Chapter 8

Doriansportrait—glad you are enjoying the story! I will be updating as much as I can!

Kayette—I started this story last summer and have added quite a few chapters in the last month. I'm hoping to finish this story before the summer ends and my work schedule picks up again. Thanks for adding me to your favorites!

Chapter 8

Draco paced back and forth across the small room. It had a table in the middle of it, with four chairs around it. One with Slytherin colors, and three with Gryffindor. It was time, he had realized. It was time to bring Potter and Weasley into his plans. Not just for himself, but also for Hermione. He realized that he needed their help to protect her properly.

Because Hermione was more in danger than she realized. She had opened a pot of worms, to use a Muggle expression. She had opened discussion of the Dark Arts in her class with seventh year Slytherins, and she had not realized that they would notice that she was up to something. They had alerted their parents, and the followers of the Dark Lord.

Draco had anticipated their reaction, but had not thought it would happen so quickly. In the beginning, he hadn't really thought of how his plans would affect Granger. But, slowly, it had started to matter. She had started to matter, and now he was utterly confused about how to handle the situation. The one thing that he knew was that he had to make sure she was safe, whatever the cost.

The door knob turned. Ron and Harry walked into the Room of Requirement. Usually, when they walked into the Room of Requirement, it was full of instruments that fought the Dark Arts. But tonight, all it held was a table and four chairs around a single lamp that hung from the ceiling. It reminded Harry of the rooms in which Muggle policemen interrogated criminals.

Draco gestured towards two of the chairs.

Harry eyed him warily. He gave his adversary a sardonic smile and gestured towards the green and silver decorated seat. "No, really," said Harry, "I insist that you sit first."

Draco did not say a word. He merely nodded and sat down. Ron and Harry exchanged a quick glance and slid their chairs out. They sat tentatively in their chairs. Nobody spoke.

Draco realized that he was going to have to begin. He cleared his throat and concentrated on not smirking at his two sworn enemies. "I've asked you two to meet me here for a very important reason." He folded his hands together on the table and did not look at them. "And I asked you to meet me here before Hermione joins us because I don't want her to know something."

Ron and Harry exchanged a meaningful look before Draco continued.

"Hermione is in trouble," Draco said simply. The words whooshed out of him. Harry and Ron rose from their seats, their stances angry. Ron swung his fist into his open palm. Harry planted his hands on the table, towering over Draco.

Draco didn't move. He knew that he deserved their wrath, and he resisted every urge to stand up and fight them. He wouldn't take the bait. He couldn't. Hermione's very life was at stake.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Draco swore. "I... I knew that the Death Eaters would eventually discover that something was happening from within Hogwarts, but I didn't really think it would happen so soon. And, I don't think most of them realize, but at least one does."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron suspiciously. He glared at Draco. "Who knows what she is trying to do?"

Draco looked away. "Karl Moorehouse," he mumbled.

"Who?" asked Harry.

Draco swiveled to face Hermione's friends. "Karl Moorehouse. He knows. He's already tried to attack her. This past weekend, when everyone was at Hogsmeade. I stopped him before he killed her."

Ron made a move to pummel Draco, but Harry held him back.

"What the hell do you mean, you stopped him before he killed her?" Harry was using all of his strength to hold Ron back from attacking Draco. "What the hell did he do to her?"

Draco stood up and slammed his palms down on the table. "He tortured her with the Cruciatus curse," he yelled. "That's what he did."

Ron almost leapt on Draco. "You got her into this mess, Malfoy. Get her the hell out!"

"I can't!" Draco cried. "She's in too deep now. With her work for the Order and with what she has started here at Hogwarts, she knows too much information about the Dark Side. Probably more than she realizes. And they are going to want to eliminate her."

Harry was no longer holding Ron back. "What do you mean, eliminate her?" Harry's voice was low and threatening. He looked like he wanted to leap on Malfoy, too.

"Potter, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by spelling it out. You know exactly what I mean. The Death Eaters are going to want to kill her. They want to kill her now." Draco flung himself back in his chair and turned away from the other two.

"And you're the one who put her in this danger!" bellowed Harry.

Draco's mood shifted. "Yes, I did," he said quietly. "I did it because I knew that in the end, it would help Dumbledore. And you." He looked Harry squarely in the eye.

Harry relaxed just a bit. "Why would you want to help me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because you are the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord, as you well know. It was foretold, and the time will come when you will face him alone. And you need all the knowledge that you can get about who is still involved, and who is being controlled. About who is betraying the Order and who wants to help," Draco explained.

Silence ensued. After a moment, Ron asked the question that he and Harry had been wondering all along. "Why the sudden change of heart, Draco? Why should we believe you?"

Draco crossed his arms and looked away. "Let's just say that I learned a few things this summer. My father disappeared, and I had to actually start thinking for myself. I spent my entire life trying to please my father, and in the end, he never even cared. Serving the Dark Lord was more important than my mother or me. He knew that we would be killed after he was, but he went out for a bit of muggle sport anyway. He was weak. If he had stood up to the Dark Lord, my mother would still be alive, and I wouldn't constantly have to watch my back."

Draco turned back to Harry and Ron. "The Dark Lord turned my father against his family. He killed my mother. He tried to kill me. Someone who brings so much destruction to his own followers is not someone who I am going to support." He shrugged. "I might not agree with everything Dumbledore has to say. I might not like you two, but I'm on your side."

Harry and Ron stood there, stunned by the onslaught of words and emotions pouring from Draco. Malfoy had changed over the summer. They couldn't believe it. They didn't want to trust him, but it looked like they might have to trust him.

Some of Harry's rage deteriorated. He sunk back into his chair. Ron followed suit, a bit confused. "What does Karl Moorehouse have to do with all of this?" asked Harry.

Draco also sat and leaned on the table, staring at them both intensely. "For some time, I believed that there was someone spying on me from the Dark Side. I wasn't sure who, and so I bided my time. After facing the Dark Lord, I knew that I could face one of his followers. Especially one that I had known for so long. I knew that it had to be one of my peers." He leaned back. "Karl Moorehouse made a few comments the other day in DADA class, and when I found him attacking Hermione, I realized that he knew she was purposely generating discussion during class." Draco rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And now she's even in more danger since I confronted him."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry.

"Well, now he knows that he can use her against me. He knows that I actually care about her," said Draco simply.

"And how could he deduce that?" interrupted Ron, a small smile threatening to break across his face. Malfoy had just admitted that he had a crush on Hermione, and Ron found a lot of amusement in that fact.

"I threatened to kill him if he ever touched her again," replied Draco.

He was serious, Harry and Ron realized. Malfoy really would kill anyone who threatened Hermione. It was a little astounding to think that Malfoy, who had called Hermione a "mudblood" for so many years, had turned around.

Harry had to make sure that Malfoy was telling the truth about his feelings, though. He was still wary of Draco's transformation. "Why do suddenly care about the little 'mudblood'?"

Draco stood so quickly that his chair fell backwards. "Don't call her that, Potter!"

Instead of feeling frightened, Harry smiled. "Sit down, Malfoy, and let's start discussing what needs to be done to protect Hermione."

Draco glared at him, knowing that Harry had gotten the reaction that he wanted. "All right, but we better do this quickly, before Hermione shows up."

Ron and Harry nodded, and a tacit agreement to get along for the time being was made between them. For Hermione's sake.


	9. Chapter 9

"Now, here's another thing that should be known," said Malfoy. "I haven't been able to sense Morehouse since I last saw him with Hermione."

"Sense him?" asked Ron. "What exactly do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord taught us how to be aware of each other. To know when one of our own was present." Draco propped his elbows on the table, his hands moving as he explained. "I knew the moment Crabbe and Goyle walked into the room. I could be in my bedroom, and I would know the moment Blaise entered the Common Room. It's an awareness that served me well this summer. I knew when my mother was killed, when I could no longer save her."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "So you know that Karl is gone?" asked Harry. Draco nodded. "Where could he have gone? And, how would Dumbledore or Filch not notice?" continued Harry.

"Filch is a clueless git." Draco smirked and leaned back in his chair. "I've been sneaking around without his noticing for years. I don't know if Dumbledore is aware."

Harry knew what was coming. "We have to tell him. He can't be left in the dark."

Draco nodded. "I agree." He stood up. "Let's go tell him now." He headed for the door and walked out, without giving the other two a second glance, trusting them to follow and trusting them not to curse him with his back turned.

"What do you think?" said Ron under his breath as he leaned closer to Harry.

"I think we should watch our backs," said Harry. "And I think we should go tell Dumbledore." He got up and followed his arch enemy out the door.

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Moments later, the three young men found themselves in front of Dumbledore's gargoyles. "Fizzing whisbees," mumbled Draco.

"Lemon drops," said Ron, firmly.

"Chocolate cockroaches," cried Harry.

As Draco guessed several more candies, "Um… pumpkin pasties. No, maybe Everlasting Gobstoppers. How about… Glow in the dark gummy worns?"

Leaning into Harry, Ron whispered, "I wonder if he recycles these passwords. I mean, how many candies are in this world?"

"George and Fred are inventing new ones every day," Harry pointed out.

"Good point." Ron shrugged and began guessing once again. "Acid pops. Caramel crackles. Oh, this is ridiculous!" He threw up his hands in exasperation and walked around himself in a circle.

"Not that I'm complaining," said Harry, "but I feel that I've been caught in this predicament too many times." He grunted.

"Crazy coconuts," said Draco. The gargoyles sprung to life, and all three young men breathed a sigh of relief. They practically fell over each other to run up the stairs.

Before any one of them could raise their hand to knock, the door to Dumbledore's office opened. A long gray beard peaked out behind the door. "The three of you can make quite a racket together," mused Dumbledore as he opened the door further. "I enjoyed listening to your guesses before you actually got the password." He walked towards his desk, his blue robes swishing behind him. He paused and turned to Ron. "And no, Mr. Weasley, I do NOT re-use passwords." A slight smile spread across his lips and the twinkle in his eye reappeared.

With a wave of his hand, he conjured three comfortable red chairs and gestured that each young man sit in one. "How is Hermione?" Dumbledore asked as he settled in his own seat, folded his hands on his desk, and looked directly at Draco.

Draco started in his seat. "But, how…?"

"I know everything that goes on here at Hogwarts," mused Dumbledore.

"She's recovering," stated Draco. "As you probably know."

Dumbledore nodded. "I suspected as much. You would have come sooner otherwise. Good, good."

"We wished to inform you, Professor, that Karl Morehouse has disappeared," said Harry, remembering why they had come. He gestured with his chin in Malfoy's direction. "Draco says that he can't sense him anymore."

Draco nodded, his wand gripped between his hands. "He's gone. I'm not sure where, but I know that he'll be back. He's angry about what Hermione has been doing in class, and wants to get her out of the way. He also wants to get at me, and he'll use Hermione to do so. It will kill two birds with one stone."

Harry and Ron cringed at the expression, but Draco didn't seem to notice. Dumbledore nodded in agreement, deep in thought. Abruptly, he stood and began to pace. "Mr. Morehouse is not the only one who is gone. He took Ms. Parkinson with him. Willingly, it seems."

Draco groaned, bending his face into his hands. Harry and Ron smirked.

"Pansy always was a follower and a fool," commented Draco. "I always told her it would get her into trouble." Dumbledore pretended not to hear him.

"Go to bed, Harry, Ron, Draco. In your own beds," Dumbledore looked pointedly at Draco. "I will send up a house elf to take care of Professor Granger." He opened his office door and ushered them out.

Harry, Ron, and Draco filed out of the office and down the hallway. Once out of hearing reach of Dumbledore's office, Draco turned to the other two.

"Tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. The Room of Requirement. We meet again and discuss a few more things. We're not going to let Hermione alone until the attack happens." Without waiting for a reply, Draco drifted off in the other direction, his footfalls silencing within a moment.

"Who the hell does the git think he is, ordering us around?" cried Ron, indignantly. "You think we should go?"

After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded. "Yeah, if Dumbledore trusts Draco, we should."

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At five minutes past seven the following evening, Harry and Ron strolled into the Room of Requirement.

"You're late," said a feminine voice. They turned to see Hermione, nestled in a big comfortable armchair. Her coloring was pale, but her voice was strong.

Ron shrugged and flung himself down on the carpet, leaning on his elbows. Harry perched himself on a three-legged stool. They looked around the room.

"Cool," exclaimed Ron. "I thought I'd never see this place again."

The room was filled with everything they ever used in their D.A. meetings. Spellbooks filled the shelves, cushions were neatly stacked in a corner, and dark magic detectors stood on every table in the room.

"I said, 'you're late', Ronald," repeated Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione, calm down." Ron waved nonchalantly. He wasn't very concerned. After all, Malfoy hadn't even waited for an answer from them yesterday when he demanded they meet. The next moment, he flew into the air, his wand poised, pointing at the image of Draco that had suddenly appeared before them.

Hermione muffled a giggle behind her hand and coughed to try to cover her reaction. Her eyes bright, she told Ron, "Put down your wand. It's fine. He's done it to me numerous times."

Ron's wand lowered a bit, but his body remained tense, poised for action. "Bloody hell," he cried. "You put up with this crap from him?"

Hermione shrugged, not speaking. Ron settled into a nearby chair, watching Draco warily.

Draco stood before them, his arms crossed, smirking. "That was too easy," he said.

"Eat dung, Malfoy," snapped Ron. He slid lower in the chair, his arms crossing, his red hair falling into his eyes.

"Okay, let's get down to business," announced Harry, trying to refocus Ron's attention. "Why are we here?"

"To show you what I know," Draco said, as if this information was obvious, his palms up.

"About what?" asked Ron sullenly.

"The Dark Arts," whispered Draco.

Harry's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Why are you going to show us, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm not sure. Hermione is making me."

A groan came from Ron's direction. "She got to you, too," he said under his breath. But not enough. Hermione yanked a pillow from beneath her and slugged Ron squarely over the head. Ron emitted a grunt of disgust and rubbed his head.

"You should know, Potter," Draco said as he turned to Harry. "It's what every Death Eater learns. The spells, the potions, the secrets. Take this invisibility potion, for instance. It's not taught in schools due to one of its ingredients. Not brewed perfectly, it could paralyze a man for life. Its antidote has another equally toxic, illegal ingredient."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "You didn't tell me that potion was illegal."

Draco shrugged. "It's on a need to know basis. Now you need to know, before you didn't."

Hermione kept quiet, though her whole face was screwed up, like she wanted to give him a good scolding. Ron and Harry were surprised she was holding back.

Harry looked from Draco to Ron to Hermione and back to Draco. He stood, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. "Right then, let's get to it."

For the next hour, Draco began to show them all of the Dark spells ever taught to him by his Keeper. He explained that each apprentice was assigned to a Keeper, and he was supposed to learn all that he knew from him. Naturally, his father had been his.

Another hour presented itself. The three young men and Hermione stood. One person propelled spells at the others while the three remaining deflected them. They learned each other's fighting styles, useful when it was necessary to fight side-by-side. Draco showed them new curses that had recently been devised by the Death Eaters, spells that would destroy any wizard or witch, no matter how powerfully magic they were.

The clock struck eleven, and they realized they needed to get back to their common rooms.

"I'll write you passes," said Hermione, pulling out a quill and a piece of parchment. The three guys rolled their eyes. She slid them a side-long glance. "It's not worth having McGonagell stop and ask questions." She handed them each a piece of parchment. "You were in my classroom doing detention."

"What!" exclaimed Ron.

"It's believable," she stated. No one argued with her. They left, one by one, with plans to meet the following evening.

The next few days were filled with intense training. Draco informed the trio of all the hideouts that he had ever been, of who all of the Death Eaters were, and which special magic was known by each Death Eater. In turn, Harry and Hermione were quick to let him know how the simplest spells were often the best to use when fighting and which professors were members of the Order and which were in support of the Ministry. Ron refused to join them, but after a few days, he stopped glaring at them for giving information to the enemy.

In truth, Hermione began to realize something. When paired together, Harry and Draco were a formidable force. Harry's strengths were Draco's weaknesses and vice versa. It was amazing to watch them, side by side, as they fought a bogart or leaned over a boiling potion.

Malfoy showed Harry and Ron how to brew his Invisibility Potion, and they all sampled it. The following twenty minutes were full of teasing and games. It started with Ron pantsing an invisible Harry "What!", who tripped and fell over an invisible Hermione "Ow!", who in turn elbowed an invisible Malfoy "Grunt." While Harry pulled up his pants, Hermione took after Ron, chasing him around the room, only to lose track of him. She paused, standing as still as one of the statues in Hogwarts, until she felt her bra snap open.

"Ron!" she yelled, and took off after him again, fumbling with her underclothes at the same time. When the potion wore off, Malfoy had Ron in a headlock, Harry was tickling his feet, and Hermione had her hand up the back of her shirt, exposing half of her stomach, trying to fix her bra.

"This isn't going very well," she said bluntly, sighing and dropping her arms to her sides. She untangled Draco and Ron, and sent them on their way.

"Do you think I am doing the right thing, Harry?" she asked him when they were alone.

Reluctantly, Harry replied, "Yes, I do."


	10. Chapter 10

Quiet filled the hallways as Hermione strolled through the castle during her night on duty the following week. She yawned, the sound echoing off the stone, disturbing the castle's slumber. Exhausted, she hugged her cloak closer around her frame and shuddered. It had been a long day, with the first and second years having major exams, the fifth years frantically studying for their OWLS, and the seventh years practicing diligently for their NEWTS. After classes, she had once again joined Harry, Ron, and Draco in the Room of Requirement for further training.

Coming upon a window seat in the Ravenclaw hallway, she sank down onto its cushioned bench. She wanted to sit down and rest for a moment. She was almost off-duty. Just two more rounds of the castle, then it would be two o'clock and Professor Flitwick's turn to patrol.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and, turning her head to the side, rested her cheek against her knees. Gazing out the window, she saw the stars twinkling down on Hogwarts. She loved this building, with its nooks and crannies and idiosyncrasies. It was home, and the people who lived here were her family.

A soft rustle caught her attention, and her head shot up in surprise. Withdrawing her wand, she whispered into the empty space, "Peeves? Is that you?"

From behind her, a crash sounded. She jumped, startled at the sound. Peering through the dark hallway, she slowly stepped forward, her wand extended in front of her. _I'm just being paranoid_, she told herself. _There's no one there. You just imagined it._

_No, you didn't just imagine it_, another voice said inside of her. _Something crashed. Someone had to cause it. Heavy stone objects don't just fall randomly out of the sky_.

Suddenly, arms came around her from behind. She screamed, but it was cut short by a silencing charm. "You _will_ be quiet," whispered an awful voice. It was the last thing she remembered before a heavy sleep fell over her.

Hermione woke slowly, a dull thud pounding the side of her head. She felt like she had drunk ten butterbeers in a row, and she knew that she would never do that. She was strong, opinionated, and stubborn, and she had too much self-control to overindulge. Restlessly, she gazed around, spotting Karl Moorehouse.

Lifting her head cautiously, she peered at her surroundings.

"Ah, so you are awake," mused Karl. He reached over with his wand and lifted her lank hair. "Pansy and I have been waiting for you."

Hermione lifted herself to shift further to the right. Sure enough, Pansy Parkinson was standing ten feet from her, her wand pointed directly at her, a slight tremor in her hands. Hermione sighed and lowered herself back down to the ground once again.

"So, you don't think you should be afraid," said Karl, his voice echoing off of the stone walls. He paced slowed back and forth, between a massive stone carving and a path that surely led out of this dark and dank place.

"Where… where am I?" Hermione croaked, her voice straining against the dryness of her throat.

Karl laughed humorously. "Haven't you figured it out, yet, Granger? Or, should I say, Professor?"

Hermione gave him a dark look. "Moorehouse, you will be graded poorly on your next exam."

Karl laughed again. "You still have a sense of humor. There is much admiration in that. I certainly wouldn't be laughing if I were in the Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione lifted her head again. "So that is where we are? I had always wondered what it looked like. Harry described it, of course, but I never thought I would get to see the real thing." She dropped her body, too tired to keep it uplifted. She knew that she had to conserve her strength. She had more than she wanted to let them know. She sent a silent prayer to Draco, Ron, and Harry, hoping that they could hear her.

Up in a girls' bathroom on the second floor of Hogwarts, Draco, Ron, and Harry were arguing about how to descend into the depths of the building.

"I'm telling you, Malfoy, the only way to get down there is to open the chamber," said Harry. "I've done it before. I can do it again. We just have to hurry."

Draco, unconvinced by anything that Harry Potter said, grumbled, "How can you be sure that she is down there? It's going to take ten minutes to figure out whether she is there or not, and if you aren't right, then…" His voice drifted off and he shuddered. He didn't want to think of the consequences.

All three of the men had been taking turns following Hermione around during her night patrols, using the potion that Draco brewed to make them invisible. They had agreed to keep it a secret from Hermione, and an odd sort of bond had formed between the three of them. Ron, who had been on duty when Hermione was taken, shook his head and crossed his arms. "Here's your proof that she's down there… how come you didn't tell us that Parkinson could speak Parseltongue?"

Draco stopped his next sentence short and turned pink. "How did you know that? I'd forgotten, actually."

"Because she was speaking it when Moorehouse brought her up to this bathroom. I snuck in long enough to figure out where they were going before I got the two of you," said Ron.

"But you didn't physically see the Chamber door open?" asked Draco.

Ron shook his head. "But she's down there. I know she is."

Harry had taken the opportunity of the distraction to begin circling the sinks in the center of the girls' bathroom. At last, he found what he was looking for. A small snake etched into the faucet, glinting in the candlelight of the bathroom. Concentrating, he slowly began to hiss a command.

"Open," Harry stated, but his voice was normal.

Draco and Ron fell silent, staring at Harry, but he tried to ignore them. With complete concentration, he hissed out his command one more time. "Open the Chamber of Secrets."

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco become paler than he already was and Ron nodding his approval.

"Keep going, mate," whispered Ron in a voice of awe. A slight grinding noise rose from between two of the enamel sinks. The floor began to move and a flurry of activity ensued. Before their eyes, the sinks changed form to reveal a deep endless tunnel.

Draco's eyes bugged out of his face, but Ron and Harry looked grim. They exchanged a tacit agreement. They had to go back into the Chamber, as Harry had done once before.

"Whoa," said Draco quietly, his voice full of awe. He peered over the edge of the hole, his knees bent, his hands on his knees. Flipping his long blond hair out of his face, he leaned over further.

"Unless you want to fall down that tunnel headfirst, I wouldn't lean over much further," advised Harry, watching Draco's fascination with the entrance. "Are you ready?"

Draco stood tall and nodded fearlessly. "I'll go first." Sitting down at the edge of the hole, holding his wand in his hand, he shoved off and disappeared into the darkness below.

Ron and Harry followed and landed hard on the stone. Draco was standing, brushing off his robes. Harry and Ron rose, and pulled out their wands. The three men started walking towards a wall, an elaborate carving of five intertwining snakes etched in the stone.

Harry walked forward, ahead of the other two. Ron and Draco paused, unsure of what Harry was about to do. Harry hissed lowly, an incantation that caused the snakes to unweave and untangle to reveal a handle. Slowly, ever so slowly, the door creaked open to reveal the chamber inside.

Karl sat upon a precipice along the water in the underground chamber, twirling his wand in his hand. Pansy stood silently next to him, her wand still focused upon Hermione.

A noise startled them, and their heads shot up as Draco walked through the door to the Chamber.

Karl laughed humorlessly. "Ahh, I see that you found our 'secret' hiding place, Malfoy. Yes, your girlfriend is here. How does it feel to see your girlfriend lying here, on the ground, defenseless?"

Pansy joined Karl, laughing mirthlessly at Draco's situation.

"You are pathetic, Moorehouse, Pansy. Going so low as to kidnap a teacher," said Draco, slowly approaching them. He glanced at Hermione to see if she was okay. From what he could tell, she was still strong enough to move on her own.

"A teacher?" shrieked Pansy. "What did she ever teach us? Everything that we pretended to learn in class, we already knew!" Vile poured from her mouth. Her hatred overcame every bit of sensibility that she had. She walked forward, her eyes on Draco now. "We only pretended to learn something. We didn't wish to be expelled from Hogwarts before the Death Eaters finished their mission. We knew that we had to help them. You pointed that out to us." She stopped several feet away from him, her wand now aimed directly at Draco's heart.

Draco stared unflinchingly at Pansy. He watched the emotions flit across her face. She was jealous, he realized. She didn't really care about what Karl Moorehouse was doing. She was using the situation to get back at him, Draco, because she was hurt. She didn't understand. He had changed so much over the summer; he would never be what he used to be, the boy who had constantly wanted someone's approval, often her approval.

"Pansy," he said quietly, "this is not about us. This is about so much more. Did Moorehouse even tell you why he was trying to hurt Hermione?" He approached her slowly. She didn't back away. She never had. He had to admire her for that.

"He's trying to hurt me, because I killed his father. It has nothing to do with Hermione. He's using her as bait and you as an accomplice. He probably has it set up so that you'll be left with the body and a modified memory. Think about it." Draco was close enough to touch her now. He didn't, though. He kept his hands to himself and one eye on Moorehouse, who was watching the proceedings with an aloof manner.

Pansy tore her gaze from Draco's and glanced at Moorehouse and then at Hermione lying lifeless on the ground. "I don't care. As long as you suffer, I don't care what happens." Before he could stop her, she swung her right hand back, her wandless hand, and slapped him hard across the cheek.

The blow took Draco by surprise. He staggered a little, stars lighting up the peripheral of his vision. He heard Pansy screech a hex, and he threw himself to his left, nimbly dodging it. She threw another curse at him, and he agilely jumped to the other side. She was a witch gone beserk, her emotions reeling and hatred spewing forth in her actions.

Karl watched, slightly fascinated by the attack. When he had brought Pansy with him, he knew that she wanted revenge on Malfoy. But, he had never imagined such venom within her. With a flick of his wrist, Karl tossed a curse into the fray, "_Crucio!_" Instead of hitting Malfoy, it deflected off a rock and hit Pansy square in the chest. The hexes ceased, and she fell to the ground, shaking.

Realizing his mistake, Karl merely shrugged and turned his full attention to Malfoy. The precious moment of error had given Draco what he needed to recover. Straightening, he pointed his wand at Karl and screamed, "_Impedimenta!_"

Karl threw himself to the side, dodging the spell. From the other side of Draco, a female voice yelled, "_Crucio!_" The spell hit Malfoy in the middle of his back.

The curse took Malfoy completely by surprise. He fell to the ground, his entire body twitching with pain. Waves of excruciating pain washed over him. He ached all over, from his feet to his neck and everything in between. The pain was consuming and all he could think was that he wanted to die.

Pansy was laughing at him. Karl watched, his expression detached.

From the middle of the chamber, a low voice yelled, "_Stupefy!_" Karl was instantly thrown down, knocked out from the spell. Pansy whipped in the direction of the voice, letting the spell fizzle out. Draco, relieved from the pain but disoriented, scrambled to his feet.

There stood Ron, his form transparent, as if he were a ghost. The potion that he and Harry had taken was wearing off. Draco knew that Harry had been there, watching, and had run off to get help. Those were the plans, and he hoped that Harry had stuck to them.

"How did you get down here, Weasel?" cried Pansy, trying to keep her eye on both young men at once. She kept glancing from one to the other, for the first time looking slightly nervous. Her breathing came in fast and heavy.

"He came with me," said Draco, quietly, clutching his middle despite himself. "I told you, Pansy, that this was about so much more. You are a fool."

It was as if his voice brought her anger back. She wheeled around to face Draco, flinging a curse at his chest. Draco turned quickly to the right, allowing the curse to ricochet off of the rock. Unfortunately, it nicked Ron in the shoulder, knocking the wind from him.

"_Sectumsempra!_" Pansy was so close to Draco that the curse hit him dead on. Already weak from the Cruciatus Curse, Draco was flung to the ground, blood spurting from his chest. His wand flew out of his hand and he grasped at the air in front of him, before sinking to the stone ground.

Pansy laughed, the sound hysterical. She leaned over Draco and said, "Always thought you were better than the rest of us, didn't you? Always trying to make friends with that whore Granger, huh? In the end, the Dark Lord always wins."

"_Stupefy!"_ cried Hermione, her struggling figure only feet away from Pansy. She had managed to crawl over to the pair without drawing attention to herself. Her hair hung limp around her face and a dark smudge covered one cheek. The hand holding her wand was scratched up.

"You bitch, nobody makes an ass out of me and gets away with it," said Hermione in a low voice. Her wand pointed directly at the back of Pansy's head. Pansy's expression was one of surprise. She had barely had time to register that she was being attacked before she was frozen. Her body fell gracefully to the ground, her hands folding underneath her to pillow her fall, her hair splayed unceremoniously around her.

Hermione lowered her wand and pushed her own unruly hair out of her face. "It's been a long day, and I've had it with the damn Slytherins." With a surprising amount of energy, she stumbled forward to the door of the Chamber.

A barely conscious Ron raised his upper body slowly, rubbing his shoulder and gazing at his retreating friend. He turned to Harry, who was standing in the doorway to the Chamber, Professor McGonagell and Professor Dumbledore behind him.

"She's gone mental, she has," concluded Ron. "There's no other explanation."


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

Hermione stood on the bridge leading to Hagrid's Hut, gazing out at the snow-capped mountains, their bases filled with spring heather. Breathing in the fresh air, she closed her eyes and sighed. It was wonderful to stop and enjoy the beauty of the hills and lake once again. Without fear that someone was going to sneak up on her, without fear that someone wanted to kill her.

"Draco," she said quietly, her eyes still closed. "I know that you are there."

Less than a moment later, a shadow of Draco appeared next to her, close enough to feel the heat of his body, but not truly touching her. She opened her eyes and stared at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gruffly. He wasn't used to wondering how another person felt, about actually caring for someone other than himself.

Hermione grinned, knowing his emotions were foreign to him. "I'm well. How are you?"

A flesh-and-blood Draco gazed out at the scene in front of him, a look of content spreading silently across in countenance. Hands on his hips, he spoke. "I'm good. I feel as if all the puzzle pieces have finally come together. And they fit." He turned to her.

Hermione nodded. "Good. I'm glad." They stood in silence for a moment, staring out at the beauty before them, and then she said, "You're going to London." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," confirmed Draco, leaning his forearms against the rail. "Dumbledore has set up a way for me to take my NEWTS at the end of the year, without all of the coursework. I'll start an internship at Gringotts next week."

Hermione nodded, strange emotions swirling within her. She was sad to see him go, but knew it was for the best.

"You can come with me." The thought burst from his lips before he even had a chance to think of its implications. Turning to her, he reached out and grasped her hand, which hung loosely at her side.

Sadly, Hermione tilted her head, seeing him in a way she had never seen him before. She shook her head slowly, and said, "No, Draco. I can't. And, I think that you know I shouldn't either." Gently, she pulled her hand from his grasp. "It would never work between us. There is too much in our past to overlook."

Draco dropped his gaze to the hand she had just released. Embarrassed, he said lowly, "You're probably right." He looked up, his eyes resting on her lips. "But it doesn't mean that I don't want it to work."

He leaned closer to her, tilting her chin up with his hands. His lips descended on hers, and the sweetness poured through him. But, he didn't want to torture himself, so he pulled away.

"I came to say good-bye." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a galleon. He held it up, the gold glinting in the weak sunlight. "It has a protean charm on it, NEWT level magic." Picking up her limp hand, he pressed it into her open palm and closed her fingers around it. "Look me up when you're in London."

Draco turned and walked away. Hermione was torn. She wanted to call out to him, wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, that they could be lovers and friends and be happy. But she kept silent and watched his figure disappear around the bend in the road.

She turned back to the beautiful scene in front of her and realized it was missing something. She was missing something. She sighed and looked down at the galleon Draco had given her. Then she grinned and put it deep into her pocket.


End file.
